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LYNTONVILLE; 


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|i  Mtm\  %B^  m  minuhu. 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE 
AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY, 

150  NASSAU-STREET,  NEW  YORK. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  I. 
Lyntonville -- - ~ 6 

CHAPTER  n. 
The  Long  Cross  school -- — -• 17 

CHAPTER  in. 
Sights  in  the  woods --..--.--.--    30 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Anight  in  the  forest- —--.--- 42 

CHAPTER  V. 
Breaking-up  day  at  school - 66 

CHAPTER  VL 
What  came  of  it - - 73 

CHAPTER  Vn. 
Philip's  discovery 85 

CHAPTER  Vm 
The  day  after  the  fire ~ 101 


CONTENTS. 
CHAPTER  IX. 


Mr.  Hardy's  store 


CHAPTER  X. 


The  missing  note- 


114 


132 


CHAPTER  XI. 
The  confession - 149 

CHAPTER  Xn. 
Concliasion — 171 


LTNTONVIILE. 


-♦-♦- 


CHAPTER  I. 


LYNTONVILLE. 

"Thou  who  hast  given  me  eyes  to  see, 
And  love  this  sight  so  Mr, 
Give  me  a  heart  to  find  out  thee, 
And  read  thee  everywhere." 

Lyntonville  was  the  name  of  a  large 
old-fashioned  log-house  which  stood  em- 
bosomed among  the  tall  trees  of  a  Cana- 
dian forest,  where  sombre  balsams  and 
hacmatacs  mingled  their  dark  foliage 
with  the  silvery  birch  and  maple.  Del- 
icate buds  and  blossoms  peeped  out  from 
beneath  their  rugged  stems  or  uprooted 
trunks,  and  feathery  ferns  lurked  in  hid- 
den nooks  and  corners  in  the  woods  all 


.** 


6 


LYNTONVILLE. 


around  it.  There  too  the  squirrels  frisked 
about,  and  the  little  chip-muncks  chirped 
merrily  as  they  played  at  hide-and-seek 

among  the  branches. 

• 

"  The  house  itself  t^os  of  timbers 
Hewn  from  the  cypreos-tree,  and  carefully  fitted 

together. 
Large  and  low  was  the  roof ;  and  on  slender  columns 

supported, 
Bose-wreathed,  vine-encircled,  a  broad  and  spacious 

verandah, 
Haunt  of  the  humming-bird  and  the  bee,  extended 

around  it." 

Mr.  Lynton  had  been  settled  in  this 
house  in  the  woods  for  many  j^ears.  It 
was  the  birthplace  of  all  his  children; 
and  though  most  of  them  were  now  mar- 
ried and  had  homes  of  their  own,  they 
all  loved  to  revisit  the  dear  old  house 
where  they  had  spent  the  happy  days  of 
their  youth.  Harry,  the  youngest,  was 
the  last  chick  left  in  the  nest,  and  he  was 
not  a  whit  behind  the  others  in  his  affec- 
tion for  his  beautiful  home. 


y^ 


Lyntonville.  7 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lynton  were  well  known 
and  highly  esteemed  in  all  the  country 
round ;  and  before  the  neighborhood  had 
attracted  so  many  settlers,  Mr.  Lynton 
had  acted  for  many  years  as  clergyman, 
lawyer,  and  doctor  to  the  whole  district. 
He  was  a  good  naturalist  too,  and  the 
hall  at  Lyntonville  was  full  of  curiosities, 
and  was  famous  in  that  part  of  Canada  as 
a  museum  of  natural  objects.  Harry 
Lynton  inherited  his  father's  tastes ;  and 
it  was  his  great  delight  to  discover  a  rare 
insect,  or  bird,  or  flower,  which  might 
be  added  to  its  treasures.  This  hall  was 
a  large,  square  room,  into  which  the 
front  door  opened ;  it  had  been  originally 
intended  for  a  parlor.  'Several  other 
apartments  surrounded  it,  and  opposite 
the  entrance  was  a  large  open  fireplace, 
where  the  great  logs  were  piled  in  win- 
ter, and  blazed  away  cheerily  up  the 
wide  chimney.    A  deer-skin  lay  in  front 


8 


LYNTONVILLE. 


l\ 


for  a  rug,  and  severa,!  stags'  heads,  ar- 
ranged according  to  their  ages  by  the 
branching  antlers,  looked  down  from  the 
wall  over  the  oaken  mantel-piece.  Large 
cases  of  bright-colored  birds  were  there, 
all  of  which  Mr.  Lyntoniiad  himself  shot; 
aye,  and  stuffed  too  with  his  own  hands. 
In  one  corner  was  a  cabinet  of  butter- 
flies,  moths,  and  beetles;  in  another,  a 
bristling  porcupine  stood  in  an  attitude 
of  defiance.  Here  a  racoon  curled  him- 
self up  in  close  imitation  of  life,  and  there 
a  snarling  wolf  showed  his  cruel  white 
teeth.  Spreading  fungi  stood  out  like 
huge  brackets  from  the  wall ;  in  short,  it 
were  vain  to  attempt  to  enumerate  all 
the  wonders  *fthat  were  there.  In  the 
long  winter  evenings,  especially  about 
Christmas,  when  the  children  used  to 
gather  around  the  great  hall  fire,  and  ask 
"grandpapa"  for  one  of  his  marvellous 
hunting-stories,  the  little  ones  would  cast 


LYNTONVILLE. 


9 


furtive  and  fearful  glances  at  the  wild 
animals,  which  seemed  so  life-like  in  the 
flickering  firelight ;  or  would  look  round, 
half  expecting  to  hear  the  wild  war- 
whoop  issue  from  the  hollow  garments  of 
the  Indian  chief  in  the  shadowy  back- 
ground. 

But  there  were  even  greater  attrac- 
tions for  Harry  out  of  doors.  A  swift- 
running  river  rippled  and  splashed  all 
day  long  at  the  foot  of  the  sloping  ground 
on  which  the  house  was  built,  and  was 
the  source  of  endless  fun  and  adventure. 
Boating,  bathing,  fishing,  and  hunting  for 
crawfish  in  their  hiding  places  under  the 
stones,  were  never-failing  amusements 
in  summer ;  and  when  theibright  waters 
were  ice-bound,  his  skates  and  his  sledge 
were  in  constant  requisition.  At  the 
time  our  story  begins,  the  ice  had  just 
broken  up,  and  this  year  it  had  been 
unusually  grand.     The  great  blocks  up- 


111 


10 


LYNTONVILLE. 


heaved  with  loud  explosions,  and  groaned 
and  creaked  as  they  were  jammed  to- 
gether into  huge  masses  near  the  bridge, 
which  was  partially  torn  away  and  car- 
ried down  the  stream  by  the  tremendous 
force  of  the  pressure.  It  was  a  magnifi- 
cent sight,  though  the  damage  caused  by 
the  floating  ice  was  very  great. 

In  a  little  cottage  just  across  the  river 
lived  Philip  Quin,  with  his  widowed 
mother.  He  was  Harry's  school-fellow 
and  inseparable  companion.  He  was  a 
pale,  delicate  boy,  with  brown  hair  and 
dark  blue  eyes;  sensitive  and  shy  in 
disposition,  and  very  prone  to  spend 
more  time  over  his  books  than  his  weakly 
constitution  %ould  allow.  Harry,  on 
the  contrary,  was  fair-haired,  tall,  and 
robust;  but  he  was  not  so  studiously 
inclined  as  to  be  in  any  danger  of  im- 
pairing his  health.  The  two  boys  were 
certainly  very  different,  but  such  firm 


LTNTONVILLE. 


11 


friends  that  one  seemed  scarcely  happy 
without  the  other.  Let  us  now  follow 
them  down  to  the  bridge,'  where  luey 
are  busy  picking  up  the  bits  of  wood  old 
Michael  Lockyer  casts  aside  in  his  work 
of  repair. 

"I  say,  Mike,"  said  Harry,  "  tell  us 
what  this  place  was  like  when  you  first 
came  to  live  here." 

The  old  man  looked  up.  "Aye,  Mas- 
ter Lynton,  I  've  nigh  forgot  what  them 
days  wor  like,  by  now ;  but  one  thing  I 
know,  it  was  n't  like  it  is  at  the  present, 
hereaway.  Why,  the  woods  came  down 
thick  to  the  water's  *  edge,  and  ne'er  a 
house  nor  yet  a  shanty  stood  up  there 
where  Lyntonville  is  now ;  and  yet.that  's 
old,  as  we  count  it,  for  it 's  a  matter  o' 
fifty  year  since  the  first  log  was  laid." 

"I  suppose  there  were  lots  of  wolves 
and  bears  about  here  then,"  said  Harry. 
"  You  must  have  had  many  a  brush  with 


12 


LYNTONVILLE. 


them  in  your  time,  Mike.  Tell  us  about 
one,  like  a  good  old  fellow  j  now  do,  I 
know  you  can." 

"  Or  about  the  beavers,"  interposed 
Philip.      • 

"Yes,  yes,  the  beavers.  Oh  do, 
Mike.  I  We  heard  you  say  before  you 
had  seen  them." 

"Well,  well,  lads,  I'll  tell  ye  what  I 
can ;  but  ye  must  let  me  get  on  with  my 
work,  or  I  sha'n't  be  done  by  nightfall. 
What  was  it  I  was  going  to  tell  ye? 
Ah,  the  beavers,  so  it  was.  I  don't 
know  as  how  I  ever  had  much  to  do  with 
'em,  though.  Do  ye  see  that  'ere  stump 
down  there  ?  Well,  that  were  some  o- 
their  doin's." 

"What,  the  beavers'?"  exclaimed 
Philip.  "Why,  they  never  could  have 
cut  off  such  a  tree  as  that." 

"Aye,  but  they  could  though;  and 
those  marks  are  nothing  more  nor  less 


LYNTONVILLE. 


13 


than  the  nibbles  o'  their  sharp  teeth,  I 
can  tell  ye,"  said  Mike. 

"But  did  you  ever  see  them?"  asked 
Harry. 

"  Why,  yes,  to  be  sure,  many  a  time, 
when  I  was  a  little  chap.  I  used  to  come 
about  here  with  my  father  when  he  went 
hunting.  It 's  sixty  year  agone  or  more 
since  I  first  set  eyes  on  that  'ere  beaver 
lodge,  and  now  there  a'n't  so  much  as  a 
stick  left.  We  lived  a  good  bit  away 
then,  so  'twas  a  long  trudge,  and  right 
glad  was  I  to  hear  the  noise  of  the  fall 
down  yonder.  By  and  by  my  father 
says  to  me,  *  Now,  Mike,  you  stand  be- 
hind this  tree  and  keep  quiet,  or  you 
wont  have  a  chance  to  see  'em.'  Well,  I 
looked,  and  there  was  the  river  dammed 
up  into  a  kind  of  pond  like,  with  stakes 
driven  into  the  water,  and  wattled  with 
twigs  like  hurdles,  and  jthe  holes  filled  in 
with  clay  to  make  all  tight,  and  round 


man 


wiimmmmmm 


t     ! 


14  LYNTONVILLE. 

the  edge  were  ten  or  a  dozen  queer-look- 
ing mud  butSj  but  ne'er  a  beaver  did  I 
see.  'Father/  says  I,  'where  are  theyf 
"Bide  still,'  says  he,  'or  you'll  see 
naught.'  So  I  watched,  and  after  a  bit 
a  brown  head  popped  up  and  looked  all 
around,  and  down  he  went  again.  Then 
four  or  five  came  out  of  the  huts,  and 
seemed  to  listen;  and  presently  one  of 
'em  gave  a  slap  with  his  big  flat  tail,  and 
they  all  set  to  work  mending  a  bit  of  the 
dam  that  was  broken  down." 

"  Oh,  Mike,  I  can't  believe  it,"  cried 
Harry. 

"Aye,  but  they  did  though,"  said 
Mike,  "and  it  was  wonderful  surely  to 
see  'em.  If  they'd  been  masons  they 
could  n't  ha'  done  their  work  better ;  and 
how  I  did  laugh  to  myself,  to  be  sure,  to 
see  one  of  'em  carrying  the  mortar  on 
his  tail,  and  pla§terin'  up  the  wall  as  if 
he  'd  been  all  his  life  a  'prentice  to  the 


LYNTONVILLE.  15 

trade.  There  was  one  big  fellow  who 
seemed  to  be  'boss/  for  whenever  he 
slapped  his  tail,  some  of  ^em  went  to  do 
his  bidding.  After  we  'd  stood  and  looked 
at  'era  a  while,  my  father  says  to  me, 
'Now,  Mike,  we'll  go  home;  and  don't 
you  forget  the  beavers,  for  there  's  many 
a  lesson  you  may  learn  from  'em.'  'No, 
father,'  says  I,  'for  I  shall  know  now 
what  you  mean  when  you  say,  '  as  busy 
as  a  beaver.' '  There 's  none  of  'em  left 
now,"  added  the  old  man  as  he  took  up 
his  axe  again,  "for  even  then  the  trap- 
pers had  found  'em  out,  and  took  a  good 
many  every  year,  for  the  sake  of  thdir 
pelt  and  their  tails,  which  are  reckoned 
very  good  eating ;  and  after  a  while  the 
rest  took  fright,  and  forsook  the  dam." 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what, "  said  Harry,  "  I  '11 
ask  papa  to  tell  us  more  about  them; 
and  perhaps  some  day  he  may  take  us  up 
the  river  far  enough  to  find  a  beaver  dam." 


16 


LYNTONVILLE. 


"  I  guess  you  'd  have  to  go  a  goodish 
number  of  miles  afore  you  came  across 
one  then,"  said  Mike;  "but  it's  getting 
late,  and  it 's  time  for  me  to  leave  work, 
and  so,  my  lads,  I  '11  wish  you  a  very 
good  night.''* 

*  It  may  be  here  observed  that  the  beaver  and  the 
maple-leaf  are  the  national  emblems  of  ihe  Canadas, 
and  none  more  suitable  could  have  been  chosen ;  for 
the  beaver  speaks  of  unwearied  diligence,  -while  the 
maple-leaf  represents  the  vast  sources  of  wealth  which 
the  country  affords,  the  maple  being  one  of  the  most 
valuable  of  North  American  trees. 


'  I 


.'>< 


THE  LONQ  CBOSS  SCHOOL. 


17 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  LONG  CROSS  SCHOOL. 

**From  the  neighboring  school  come  the  boys, 
With  more  than  their  wonted  noise 
And  commotion." 

About  two  miles  and  a  half  from  Lyn- 
tonville  was  the  small  village  of  Fair- 
field, consisting  chiefly  of  one  principal 
street,  which  led  straight  across  the 
bridge  and  up  the  high  bank  of  the  river ; 
while  two  rival  mills  and  a  few  frame 
houses  and  shanties,  dotted  here  and 
there  on  the  opposite  side,  comprised  the 
whole  of  the  settlement.  Standing  a 
short  distance  back  from  the  top  of  the 
steep  village  street  was  the  little  wooden 
church.  It  was  surrounded  by  a  dark 
background  of  pine-trees,  which  rocked 
and  swayed  in  the  breeze,  close  by  the 
quiet  churchyard,  where  many  a  settler 


I- 


18 


LYNTONVILLE. 


from  the  surrounding  country  had  already 
been  laid  to  rest.  Still  further  away  to 
the  right,  was  the  Long  Cross  school — a 
low,  rough  building,  with  shingled  roof, 
and  wooden  walls  grown  grey  by  long 
exposure  to  wind  and  weather.  It  de- 
rived its  name  from  being  situated  on 
the  Cross-road,  leading  through  a  large 
cedar  swamp,  which  connected  the  woods 
of  Lyntonville  with  those  of  Fairfield. 
Had  you  peeped  in  at  the  door,  you 
would  have  seen  boys  of  all  sorts  and 
sizes,  rich  and  poor,  at  the  Long  Cross 
school,  for  there  was  no  other  for  many 
miles  round.  John  and'  Charlie  Red- 
fern,  the  clergyman's  sons,  Tom  Hardy 
from  the  drygoods  store  at  the  corner, 
and  Philip  Quin  were  all  in  the  same 
class  with  Harry  Lynton  and  several 
others ;  and  we  shall  become  better  ac- 
quainted with  some  of  them  before  our 
story  is  finished. 


-*! 


THE  LONG  CROSS  SCHOOL. 


19 


One  fine  spiing  morning,  Harry  was 
walking  leisurely  to  school,  swinging  his 
books  by  the  leathern  strap  that  bound 
them,  when  his  quick  eye  spied  a  flying- 
squirrel,  leaping  from  bough  to  bough  in 
a  large  rock-elm  close  to  the  path.  Im- 
mediately he  gave  chase,  and  after  a  long 
and  exciting  scramble,  which  led  him  far 
out  of  his  road,  he  succeeded  in  securing 
it  under  his  cap ;  and  then  he  hurried  on, 
eager  to  show  his  prize  to  his  school- 
fellows. What  was  his  dismay  when  he 
found  the  door  closed,  and  heard  through 
the  open  window  the  busy  hum  of  the 
boys'  voices  repeating  their  lessons. 
There  was  no  help  for  it  now  however, 
so  he  tried  to  slip  in  quietly  unobserved. 
A  class  was  just  going  up,  and  Harry 
thought  he  had  escaped  notice ;  but  un- 
fortunately it  was  by  no  means  the  first 
offence. 

*'I  say,  wont  you  catch  it  for  being 


rr 


20 


LYNTONVILLE. 


late  again,"  whispered  his  next  neigh- 
bor. "Old  Elmslie  has  been  asking  for 
you." 

"Can't  be  helped,"  said  Harry.  "Fve 
caught  a  flying-squirrel." 

"Oh,  do  let  us  see  it,  Lynton,"  said 
Charlie  Redfern;  "where  is  it?" 

"It's  in  my  pocket;  I  can't  show  it 
to  you  now.     It  will  be  off,  if  I  do  n't  take 


care. 


11 


"I  say,  what's  the  fun?"  telegraphed 
another  from  an  opposite  form.  .  Harry 
drew  a  rough  sketch  on  his  slate  and  held 
it  up. 

"Silence,  there,"  cried  Mr.  Elmslie 
from  his  desk,  and  instantly  the  boys 
were  as  still  as  mice.  But  Harry  could 
think  of  nothing  but  his  squirrel,  which 
was  bobbing  about  in  his  pocket,  as  if 
it  would  break  bounds  every  moment. 
Soon  the  fifth  form  was  called  up ;  but 
not  one  word  of  his  lesson  could  Harry 


LONG  GROSS  SCHOOL. 


21 


remember,  for  the  squirrel  was  still  up- 
permost in  his  mind.  "I  say,  Phil,  do 
you  think  it  will  eat  it 's  way  out?"  he 
whispered. 

*'What?"  said  Philip,  who  knew  noth- 
ing about  it. 

"I've  got  a  flying-squirrel  in  my 
pocket.     I  caught  it  coming  to  school." 

"You^d  better  not  bother  about  it 
now,  you  '11  lose  your  place  if  you  do  n't 
mind." 

"  Lyjiton,"  said  the  master,  "you  know 
the  rules;  go  to  the  foot  of  the  class, 
and  don't  let  me  have  to  speak  to  you 
again." 

Harry  tried  to  attend  for  a  few  min- 
utes ;  then  it  struck  him  that  the  squirrel 
had  been  very  still  for  a  long  time; 
could  it  be  dead?  He  could  not  resist 
the  temptation  of  putting  his  hand  very 
gently  into  his  pocket  to  see  if  all  was 
right.    Hardly  had  he  done  so,  when  a 


V 


!l 


22  LYNTONVILLE. 

bite,  sharp  enough  to  draw  blood,  made 
him  hastily  withdraw  it,  and  the  little 
prisoner,  taking  advantage  of  the  open- 
ing, sprang  out  of  his  pocket,  and  leaped 
first  on  the  master's  desk,  where  it  upset 
the  ink  on  his  books  and  papers;  then 
settled  on  little  Percy  Hamilton's  curly 
head,  entangling  its  claws  in  his  long 
hair;  then  freeing  itself  with  a  struggle 
and  a  bound,  it  cleared  the  open  window, 
and  was  off  to  the  shelter  of  its  native 
woods,  well  pleased  no  doubt  to  be  let 
out  of  school.  The  boys  shouted ;  those 
who  were  in  the  secret  laughing  heartily 
at  poor  Harry's  misfortune,  while  the 
others,  completely  mystified  at  the  sud- 
den commotion,  asked  each  other  what 
it  all  meant.  Even  Mr.  Elmslie's  voice 
failed  in  quieting  them  for  some  moments ; 
but  order  being  at  length  restored,  Harry 
was  told  to  stand  oat. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  the  master,  "what 


'l,iHliii'~~TiW 


MM 


mmmi 


LONG  CROSS  SCHOOL. 


23 


am  I  to  say  to  you  for  causing  all  this 
damage  and  disturbance?" 

Harry  stood  silent,  and  the  matter 
ended  by  his  having  to  spend  that  long 
bright  half-holiday  alone  in  the  Long 
Cross  school,  with  all  his  lessons  to  learn 
over  again. 

But  although  Harry  was  inclined  to  be 
idle  sometimes,  he  had  nevertheless  many 
good  points  in  his  character.  He  was 
open-hearted  and  generous ;  and  in  any 
case  of  oppression  or  wrong-doing  among 
his  school-fellows,  he  was  sure  u>  stand 
up  for  the  right. 

It  so  happened  that  when  Philip  Quin 
first  joined  the  school,  he  incurred  the 
dislike  of  Tom  Hardy,  one  of  the  biggest 
and  most  unpopular  of  the  boys.  For  a 
long  time.  Hardy,  who  was  not  wanting 
in  quickness  and  ability,  had  been  con- 
sidered head  of  the  fifth,  or  highest  form ; 
but  he  took  advantage  of  his  standing  to 


r 


n 


mM 


24 


LYNTONVILLE. 


bully  his  companions.  Yery  soon  after 
Philip  joined  however,  Hardy  found  his 
position  becoming  more  and  more  unten- 
able every  day,  and  before  many  weeks 
had  passed  he  was  completely  outdone. 
In  consequence.  Hardy  lost  no  opportu- 
nity of  annoying  and  holding  him  up  to 
ridicule,  on  the  score  of  his  poverty, 
which  was  only  too  plainly  betrayed  by 
his  patched  and  threadbare  coat.  One 
day  Hardy  was  more  than  usually  coarse 
and  rude  in  his  conduct  to  Philip  in  the 
playground,  who  bore  it  very  meekly, 
though  his  pale  face  glowed  with  the  bright 
flush  of  suppressed  feeling.  Presently 
Harry  was  attracted  by  the  loud  tones  oi 
Hardy's  voice,  and  though  he  did  not 
know  much  of  Philip  at  that  time  he  could 
not  calmly  see  the  weak  oppressed. 

"Come  now.  Hardy,  you  just  stop  that, 
will  you,"  said  he;  *'Pm  not  going  to 
stand  it." 


«3MM 


LONG  CROSS  SCHOOL. 


25 


"  Then  just  take  yourself  ofiF,  and  leave 
me  to  mind  my  own  business,"  said  Har- 
dy. "If  you  don't  look  out  I'll  pitch 
into  you,  my  boy." 

Some  of  the  lads  burst  out  laughing  at 
this  speech,  for  they  all  knew  that  Hardy's 
words  were  much  more  valiant  than  his 
deeds. 

"Come  on  then,"  said  Harry,  "let's 
have  it  out,  for  you  sha'n't  bother  Quin 
any  more  if  I  can  help  it." 

"Oh  don't,  Lynton,  pray  don't  fight 
on  my  account ;  what  he  says  does  me  no 
harm,  and  I  don't  mind ;  please  don't ;" 
and  Philip  looked  distressed.  By  this 
time  however,  Harry's  coat  was  off,  and 
a  ring  of  boys  had  gathered  around  the 
combatants ;  most  of  them  rallying  round 
Harry,  though  one  or  two  sided  with  his 
opponent.  Hardy,  like  most  bullies,  was 
a  sad  coward,  and  he  was  rather  fright- 
ened when  he  saw  the  turn  affairs  had 


LYNTONVILLE. 

taken ;  but  he  felt  that  if  he  showed  the 
white  feather  now,  he  would  lose  his  po- 
sition in  the  playground  as  well  as  in  his 
class,  so  with  a  great  deal  of  bluster  he 
prepared  to  fight  his  young  antagonist. 
Several  blows  were  struck  on  both  sides, 
and  Harry  succeeded  in  punishing  Har- 
dy severely,  though  a  bruised  face  and 
black  eye  proved  that  he  himself  had  not 
escaped  in  defending  the  weak.  At  this 
moment  Mr.  Elmslie  rather  unexpected- 
ly made  his  appearance. 

"Now,  boys,  what's  all  this  about?" 
said  he  very  gravely.  '  Go,  Lynton, 
and  wash  your  face,  and  then  come  into 
school,  where  I  will  speak  to  you,  which 
I  cannot  do  in  your  present  state."  Harry 
walked  ofif,  looking  very  deplorable. 

''Who  was  the  other?"  continued  Mr. 
Elmslie,  looking  round,  but  Hardy  had 
contrived  to  slip  off  unobserved,  and  was 
not  to  be  seen. 


LONG  CROSS  SCHOOL. 


27 


"If  you  please,  sir,"  said  Philip,  coin- 
ing forward  and  speaking  very  earnest- 
ly, "don't  blame  Lynton',  for  he  did  it 
out  of  kindness ;  indeed  he  did,  sir, 
though  I  begged  him  not." 

"  A  strange  way  of  showing  kindness, 
truly.  And  are  you  mixed  up  in  this 
affair  too,  Quin  ?  I  should  not  have  be- 
lieved it  possible,"  said  Mr.  Elmslie,  in 
evident  displeasure. 

Philip  colored,  and  did  not  know  what 
to  say,  for  he  could  not  bear  to  have  his 
friend  suffer  unjustly,  while  he  did  not 
like  to  allude  to  Hardy's  provoking  and 
unkind  taunts  about  his  poverty.  He 
stood  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  said, 
very  respectfully,  "If  you  please,  sir, 
may  I  explain  ?  Hardy  was  teasing  me, 
and  Harry  took  ray  part,  which  led  to 
the  fight." 

"  There  seems  to  have  been  very  small 
provocation,  Quin  j  and  as  I  entirely  dis- 


f 


28 


LYNTONVI'LE. 


approve  of  the  practice,  I  shall  certainly 
make  examples  of  Lynton  and  Hardy." 

**  Oh,  sir,"  cried  Charlie  Redfern,  a 
bright  little  fellow  of  eleven,  who  was 
never  afraid  of  speaking  his  mind ;  "  Oli, 
Mr.  Elmslie,  it  would  n't  be  fair,  indeed 
it  would  n't.  Hardy  is  a  big  bully,  and 
he  is  always  going  on  at  Quin  about  being 
poor,  and  I  do  n't  know  what  all.  It 's 
more  than  any  fellow  can  stand,  sir ;  and 
it 's  all  because  he  gets  above  him  in 
school.  It 's  a  downright  shame  the  way 
he  goes  on,  and  Lynton  said  he  would  n't 
stand  it  any  longer,  for  Quin  bears  it  so 
meekly  and  never  says  a  word.  It's 
Hardy  that 's  to  blame  if  any  one  is ;  you 
would  have  thought  so  yourself,  sir,  if 
you  had  been  here."  And  he  stopped, 
breathless  with  his  long  speech. 

*'Is  this  the  case,  boys?" 

*'Yes,  sir."  **It  is  really,  sir,"  cried 
several  voices  together. 


LONG  CROSS  SCHOOL. 


29 


"Well,  then,"  said  Mr.  Elmslie  as 
Harry  reappeared,  "  that  alters  the  case. 
I  am  glad  to  find,  Lynton,  that  you  are 
not  SO  much  to  blame  in  this  matter  as  I 
imagined  at  first;  but,  boys,  I  wish  I 
could  teach  you  to  remember  that  this  is 
not  the  way  to  settle  disputes,  or  make 
wrong  come  right.  I  am  very  thankful, 
Quin,  to  find  that  you  do  not  harbor  ill- 
will,  or  desire  to  resent  an  injury.  I 
trust  the  disposition  to  bear  meekly  with 
insults  proceeds  Irom  a  truly  noble  effort 
on  your  part,  my  boy,"  and  Mr.  Elmslie 
looked  kindly  at  Philip;  "I  mean  an 
effort  to  follow  in  the  steps  of  Him  who 
was  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  and  forgave 
every  trespass.  As  for  Hardy,  he  must 
be  differently  dealt  with." 


30 


LYNTONVILLE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SIGHTS  IN  THE  WOOD. 

"There 's  not  a  leaf  within  the  bower, 

There 's  not  a  bird  upon  the  tree, 
There  'd  not  a  dew-drop  on  the  flower, 

But  bears  the  impress,  Lord,  of  thee. 
Yes,  dew-drops,  leaves,  and  birds,  and  all 

The  smallest  like  the  greatest  things, 
The  sea's  vast  space,  the  earth's  wide  ball, 

Alike  proclaim  thee  King  of  kings." 

From  the  day  of  the  fight,  Hariy  and 
Philip  had  been  fast  friends,  and  many  a 
pleasant  expedition  they  had  together. 
Harry's  open,  fearless  character  had  a 
good  influence  upon  Philip,  who  was 
timid  and  sensitive;  while  Philip's  high 
principles  and  thoughtful  piety  were  a 
check  upon  Harry's  natural  heedless- 
ness. One  Saturday,  being  a  holiday, 
Harry  ran  off  as  usual  to  seek  his  friend ; 
and  when  he  reached  the  cottage,  he 
found  him  sitting  in  an  arbor  in  the  gar- 


SIGHTS  IN  THE  WOOD. 


81 


den  reading.  This  little  retreat  was  the 
work  of  Philip's  own  hands,  and  he  had 
spent  many  busy  hours  in  its  construc- 
tion. He  could  even  tell  the  spot  where 
each  knotted  stick  and  fir-cone  and  curi- 
ous pebble  had  been  found.  When  at 
length  the  last  nail  was  driven  in,  and 
*he  had  really  completed  his  long-cher- 
ished design,  his  delight  was  great,  and 
he  was  proud  indeed  when  his  mother 
promised  to  honor  his  little  edifice  by 
drinking  tea  there  with  him  the  first 
evening  after  it  was  finished.  Harry's 
emulation  had  been  roused  by  the  suc- 
cessful labors  of  his  companion,  and  he 
too  had  attempted  something  of  the  same 
kind ;  but  he  soon  bec0,me  weary  of  his 
work,  and  gave  it  up,  like  many  other 
things  which  he  had  thrown  aside  in  the 
same  way. 

Philip  looked  up  as  Harry's  shadow 
fell  on  his  open  book. 


32 


LYNTONVILLE. 


11 


"Oh,  Harry,"  said  he,  "  are  you  going 
for  a  walk  V^ 

"Yes,"  cried  Harry,  "come  along; 
it 's  so  jolly  in  the  woods  to-day,  and  we 
shall  find  ever  so  many  thinge." 

Philip  went  in  to  tell  his  mother,  and 
then  joined  his  friend,  and  the  two  lads 
set  off  together.  The  woods  certainly* 
were  very  inviting,  for  flowers  of  every 
hue  sprang  up  at  their  feet,  and  every 
little  hillock  was  carpeted  with  soft  moss- 
es and  crowned  with  the  delicate  fronds 
of  the  oak-fern  or  the  glossy  black  stems 
of  the  maiden-hair.  Large  lily -like 
plants,  called  by  the  Indians  "deaths," 
on  account  of  the  deadly  poison  which 
lurks  beneath  their  fair  appearance,  nod- 
ded their  be,autiful  snowy  or  chocolate- 
colored  blossoms  in  the  breeze.  The  sun- 
light shimmered  and  glanced  through  the 
waving  boughs,  brightening  the  little 
nooks  and  dells,  here  flecking  the  sober 


.IGHTS  IN  THE  WOOD. 


pines  with  its  golden  gleam,  there  kiss- 
ing the  ripe  red  strawberries  scattered 
in  abundance  over  the  ground.  But 
amid  all  these  beauties  Philip  looked 
grave  and  out  of  spirits ;  and  at  length 
he  said,  "It  was  this  day  three  years 
ago  that  my  father  died." 

"Do  you  remember  him?^^  asked 
Harry. 

"Oh,  yes,  quite  well.  I  was  ten  then, 
and  we  had  just  come  over  from  Ireland, 
mamma,  and  papa,  and  Edith — that  was 
my  little  sister — and  our  old  nurse  No- 
rah.  I  remember  so  well,  the  day  we 
arrived  at  Montreal,  seeing  the  squaws 
come  on  board  ship  with  their  baskets 
and  moccasins  for  sale.  I  was  fright- 
ened rather,  and  so  was  Edie,  until  mam- 
ma told  us  all  about  them.  Well,  we 
staid  there  some  time,  and  then  papa 
heard  of  a  farm  that  would  suit  him,  and 
it  was  while  we  were  on  our  journey  to 

T^rntoiiTllto.  3 


34  LYNTONVILLE. 

the  place,  I  forget  the  name,  that  papa 
was  taken  ill  of  cholera  and  died.  Then 
Edie  took  it,  and  old  Norah,  and  they 
were  all  buried  in  the  same  gravc.'^ 
"Oh  Philip;  how  dreadful." 
"Yes,"  said  Philip,  "it  was  a  dread- 
ful time.  And  afterwards  mamma  was 
very  ill;  and  when  she  got  better  we 
came  here.  I  remember  Edie  and  I  had 
ponies  in  the  old  country,  and  we  used 
to  ride  with  papa  very  often.  I  never 
had  a  shabby  coat  then;"  and  Philip 
looked  down-  at  his  well-worn  sleeves, 
patched  in  more  than  one  place;  "but 
that  doesn't  matter,"  he  added  hastily, 
"it's  mamma  that  I  care  about.  If  I 
were  only  a  man,  I  could  earn  something 
to  make  her  more  comfortable." 

"Well,"  said  Harry,  "you  are  so 
smart  that  you  will  be  able  to  do  it  some 
day.  It's  my  belief  you  could  teach  a 
school  as  well  as  Mr.  Elmslie  now." 


■'^mmm. 


SIGHTS  LN  THE  WOOD. 


86 


Thus  chatting  together,  Philip  became 
more  cheerful,  and  the  two  boys  kept 
along  the  edge  of  the  forest  for  some  dis- 
tance, gathering  the  strawberries,  and  fill- 
ing their  hands  with  the  different  wild  flow- 
ers that  tempted  them  on  at  every  step. 

"I  say,  look  here,"  said  Harry,  "the 
mandrakes  are  out;"  and  he  lifted  one 
of  the  broad  twin-leaves  of  a  curious- 
looking  plant,  and  showed  Philip  a  large 
white  waxen  flower,  like  a  wild  rose, 
growing  close  to  the  foot-stalk,  which 
had  been  hidden  from  sight.  *^  We  must 
mark  the  place,  and  come  here  when  the 
fruit  is  ripe." 

"  What  is  it  like  r  said  Philip. 

"It  is  about  the  size  of  an  egg,  and 
has  a  thick  yellow  skin,  with  seeds  like 
a  gooseberry.  It 's  first-rate,  I  can  tell 
you.  Suppose  we  go  further  into  the 
wood  now,  we  sha'n't  find  much  more 
out  here/* 


1\ 


8G 


LYNTONVILLE. 


"What^s  this?"  said  Philip  as  he 
stooped  to  pick  up  something  that  looked 
like  a  tobacco-pipe  curiously  carved  in 
wax,  stuck  into  the  ground  bowl  upwards, 
at  the  foot  of  a  pine. 

'*  Oh,  I  'm  so  glad  you  Ve  found  one," 
cried  Harry;  **it  must  be  the  'Indian 
pipe'  old  Mike  told  me  about.  I  believe 
it 's  nothing  but  a  fungus ;  see,  it 's  turn- 
ing black  already.  Did  n't  it  look  just 
as  if  some  one  had  put  it  there  and  for- 
gotten it?" 

*'  Oh,  did  you  see  that  bird  ?"  exclaim- 
ed Philip  abruptly ;  "  it  was  bright  scar- 
let, and  passed  like  a  flash  of  fire." 

"  It 's  a  tannager ;  but  it  is  not  all  scar- 
let; it  has  black  wings,  I  know,  because 
papa  has  one  stuffed.  Yes,  there  he 
goes;  and  there's  a  blue  jay.  Hark! 
do  you  hear  his  scream  ?" 

And  so,  attracted  by  one  strange  sight 
after   another,  the  boys  wandered  on 


xMwv^iliin;. 


gASiSk*' 


SIGHTS  IN  THE  WOOD. 


87 


deeper  and  deeper  into  the  forest,  until 
at  last  Philip  said,  **  Do  n't  you  think  we 
ought  to  bo  going  home,  Harry?  It 
must  be  getting  late." 

They  had  left  the  little  wood-path  a 
long  while  before,  to  pick  a  flower  here 
and  to  get  a  glimpse  of  a  squirrel  or 
bright  bird  there ;  and  now,  when  it  was 
time  for  them  to  retrace  their  steps,  they 
could  not  remember  in  which  direction 
they  had  come.  Above  and  around 
them  were  thicL  tall  trees,  so  tall  that 
they  could  only  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
sky  now  and  then,  and  not  a  sign  of  a 
footpath  could  they  see.  Their  feet  sank 
deep  into  the  rich  soft  mould  formed  by 
the  fallen  leaves  for  hundreds  of  j^ears, 
and  it  seemed  as  if  no  other  footstep 
had  ever  passed  that  way.  The  two 
boys  stood  still  for  a  moment  and  con- 
sulted. 

"Here's  a  pretty  go,"  said  Harry; 


I 


88 


LYNTONVILLE. 


"I'm  sure  I  don't  remember  which  way 
we  came;  do  you?" 

"No,"  said  Philip,  looking  very  much 
frightened;  "the  trees  are  all  alike,  and 
there's  no  path.  What  shall  we  do, 
Hairy?" 

"Oh,  never  mind;  we'll  soon  find  it. 
I  think  it  was  this  way ;  we  '11  try  it,  at 
any  rate." 

They  turned  in  the  direction  he  indi- 
cated, and  walked  on  for  some  distance 
without  speaking.. 

"Do  you  remember  that  fallen  tree, 
Harry?"  said  Quin  as  they  came  to  a 
large  trunk  completely  uprooted,  lying 
all  across  their  path. 

"  I  can't  say  I  do,  Philip.  I  'm  afraid 
we  're  wrong,  after  all ;  we  must  go  back." 

Again  they  turned,  and  as  they  went 
the  undergrowth  seemed  to  become  thick- 
er as  it  brushed  past  their  faces  and 
scratched  and  tore  their  clothes,  which 


SIGHTS  IN   THE   WOOD. 


39 


made  them  think  they  were  going  far- 
ther and  farther  into  the  wood.  Up  and 
down  they  wandered,  Harry  saying  all 
he  could  think  of  to  keep  up  poor  Phil-, 
ip's  courage,  though  it  must  be  confessed 
his  own  was  fast  oozing  away,  for  the 
time  was  passing  on.  It  was  getting 
dark,  as  the  sun  had  nearly  set.  They 
felt  that  the  blackness  of  night  would 
soon  be  upon  them,  and  they  were  alone 
in  the  great  silent  forest.  Philip  held 
Harry's  hand  tightly  clasped  in  his  own, 
and  they  looked  at  each  other  without 
speaking  a  word.  Just  then  a  large  bird 
flew  up,  and  startled  them,  with  its  heavy 
flight,  and  all  was  still  again  j  so  still  that 
they  could  almost  hear  their  hearts  beat- 
ing. 

"Oh,  Harry,"  said  Philip  at  last, 
"what  will  my  mother  do  when  she  finds 
we  don't  come  back?  Do  you  think  we 
shall  ever  find  our  way  back?'' 


40 


LYNTONVILLE. 


"I  don't  know,"  said  Harry;  "per- 
haps they  '11  look  for  us ;  but  I  'm  afraid 
they  don't  know  which  way  we  went. 
I  wonder  if  any  one  would  hear,  if  we 
shouted  ?" 

Again  and  again  they  shouted,  but  the 
sound  only  waked  the  echoes  of  the  for- 
est, and  startled  one  or  two  birds  that 
had  gone  to  roost  in  the  trees  near ;  so 
they  gave  it  up  in  despair. 

Presently  Harry  said,  "Philip,  let  us 
kneel  down  and  pray ;  perhaps  God  will 
help  us." 

They  knelt  down  hand  in  hand  at  the 
foot  of  a  tree,  and  Philip  uttered  a  few 
words  of  earnest  prayer  that  God  would 
take  care  of  them,  and  bring  them  back 
safely  to  their  homes.  "When  they  rose 
from  their  knees  Philip  said,  "Do  you 
remember  the  psalm,  Harry,  '  Thou  com- 
passest  my  path  and  my  lying  down,  and 
art  acquainted  with  all  my  ways.    The 


L 


SIGHTS  IN  THE  WOOD.  41 

night  slrineth  as  the  day:  the  darkness 
and  the  light  are  both  alike  to  thee  V  I 
do  n't  think  we  ought  to  be  afraid,  for 
God  is  with  us  here  just  as  much  as  if 
we  were  at  home." 

"But,  Philip,  suppose  we  are  starved 
to  death!" 

"  Oh  but,  Harry,  we  Ve  asked  God  to 
take  care  of  us  ;  and  I  know  he  will,  be- 
cause he  has  promised  to  hear  our  pray- 
ers for  Christ's  sake." 

The  two  boys  began  to  feel  more  hope- 
ful as,  comforting  each  other,  they  thus 
remembered  that  their  Father  in  heaven 
was  near,  however  far  they  might  be 
from  their  earthly  parents'  aid. 


^;^' 


H 


;■ 
■I 


42 


LYNTONVILLE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  NIGHT  IN  THE  FOREST. 

"Abide  with  me  ;  fast  falls  the  eventide, 
The  darkness  thickens ;  Lord,  with  me  abide. 
When  other  helpers  fail,  and  comforts  flee, 
Help  of  the  helpless.  Oh,  abide  with  me."  , 

"  I  WISH  we  could  light  a  fire,  Harry  ; 
it 's  getting  very  dark,  and  I  'm  so 
cold.'^ 

"Ah,  that's  a  capital  idea,  and  I  be- 
lieve we  can  do  it  too,  for  I  've  got  the 
matches  in  my  pocket  that  we  were  going 
to  use  when  we  fired  off  the  cannon  yes- 
terday." 

They  set  to  work  and  gathered  a  large 
heap  of  dry  wood,  which  after  many  fail- 
ures they  managed  to  light  with  some 
dead  leaves,  and  soon  it  burned  up 
brightly.  The  fire  was  a  great  comfort, 
and  afforded  them  some  occupation,  for 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  FOEEST. 


43 


they  employed  all  the  little  light  that 
was  left  in  making  a  pile  of  sticks  to 
keep  it  up  all  night.  This  done,  they 
sat  down  by  it,  and  tried  to  make  them- 
selves as  comfortable  as  they  could  un- 
der the  circumstances.  It  was  now  quite 
dark,  and  they  talked  as  much  as  possi- 
ble, for  the  dead  silence  was  more  than 
they  could  bear.  Now  and  then  the  dry 
wood  crackled  and  flared  up,  and  as  soon 
as  the  flame  died  away  they  piled  on 
more  fuel  to  keep  up  a  blaze.  Sleep  of 
course  was  out  of  the  question,  and  they 
sat  there  listening  to  every  little  sound, 
and  conjuring  up  all  sorts  of  terrors,  both 
real  and  imaginary.  The  rustle  of  a 
dead  leaf  was  enough  to  make  them  start ; 
and  once,  when  a  wild,  unearthly  scream 
broke  the  stillness  of  the  night,  just  above 
their  heads,  they  clung  to  each  other  in 
terrible  fear,  until  they  heard  the  heavy 
flapping  of  wings,  and  remembered  it 


44 


LYNTONVILLE. 


could  be  nothing  but  an  owl  in  search  of 
its  prey. 

Slowly  and  wearily  passed  the  time; 
each  moment  seemed  an  hour  to  their 
excited  fancy ;  but  as  the  night  wore  on 
they  became  more  calm,  and  Harry  had 
nearly  regained  his  wonted  courage, 
when  they  heard  a  heavy,  crashing 
sound,  as  of  some  large  animal  coming 
through  the  brushwood.  Nearer  and 
nearer  it  approached,  and  their  hearts 
died  within  them ;  they  hardly  dared  to 
breathe,  lest  the  sound  should  attract 
the  attention  of  the  beast.  They  each 
caught  up  a  lighted  brand  from  the  fire 
as  the  only  weapon  within  reach,  and 
put  themselves  in  an  attitude  of  defence. 
Presently  the  bushes  on  the  other  side  of 
the  fire  parted ;  they  saw  two  red  eyeballs 
glaring  at  them,  and  could  just  distin- 
guish the  huge  outlines  of  a  bear  through 
the  gloom.    There  it  stood  for  some  time, 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  FOREST. 


45 


evidently  not  knowing  what  to  make  of 
the  unwonted  sight  of  a  fiery  pile  in  its 
hitherto  undisturbed  haunts;  and  there 
stood  the  boys,  motionless,  their  eyes 
fixed  on  the  unwelcome  invader  of  their 
solitude.  After  a  while  it  gave  a  low 
growl,  and  raising  its  head,  snuffed  about 
as  if  in  search  of  them ;  but  at  that  mo- 
ment the  fire,  which  was  getting  low,  fell 
in,  and  a  bright  blaze  shot  up,  crackling 
and  sparkling  as  it  rose.  This  seemed 
to  alarm  the  bear,  which  is  well  known 
to  be  a  cowardly  animal,  unless  suffering 
from  extreme  hunger.  It  turned  with  a 
parting  grunt,  and  slowly  trotted  off, 
and  they  heard  its  retreating  footsteps 
growing  fainter  and  more  faint  in  the 
distance.  After  this  they  had  no  further 
alarms,  but  the  time  seemed  to  pass  more 
tediously  than  ever,  for  they  feared  lest 
their  dreaded  enemy  should  return  again. 
Most  thankful  were  they  when  the  first 


46 


LYNTONVILLE. 


it 


pale  streaks  of  dawning  light  told  them 
that  morning  was  near,  and  that  the  long 
horrible  darkness  was  past. 

"It's  Sunday  morning,  Philip,"  said 
Harry. 

**Yes,"  whispered  Philip,  "we  ought 
to  thank  God;"  and  once  again  they 
knelt  to  render  their  heartfelt  praise  for 
their  preservation  from  the  dangers  of  the 
night. 

At  length,  when  it  was  light  enough 
for  them  to  see  each  other  distinctly, 
Harry  was  startled  to  observe  how  hag- 
gard poor  Philip  looked.  He  was  not  a 
strong  boy  at  any  time,  and  want  of  food 
,for  so  many  hours,  combined  with  the 
terrors  of  their  situation,  had  been  too 
much  for  him;  but  he  said  nothing,  and 
they  began  to  look  about  for  wild  ber- 
ries to  satisfy  their  hunger.  They  could 
find  nothing,  however,  but  a  few  plants 
of  the  Indian  turnip. 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  FOREST. 


47 


"Do  you  know,  Philip,"  said  Harry, 
"I've  heard  that  the  Indians  eat  these 
roots ;  but  if  they  are  not  cooked  in  one 
particular  way,  they  hurt  one's  throat 
and  mouth  most  fearfully.  I  believe  they 
roast  them.  Shall  we  try?  We  shall 
starve  if  we  don't  eat  something,  and 
there  are  no  berries  about  here." 

"Yes,  perhaps  it  would  be  a  good 
plan,"  said  Philip,  "but  I  can't  say  I  feel 
very  hungry." 

Harry  pulled  up  some  of  the  roots  and 
washed  them  in  a  little  stream  hard  by ; 
then  covering  them  with  the  hot  wood 
embers,  he  piled  on  more  sticks,  and  left 
them  to  roast  themselves.  "What  had 
we  better  do?"  said  he;  "shall  we  try 
again  to  find  our  way  back?  If  we  could 
only  get  to  the  river,  we  should  be  all" 
right.  You  know  we  could  notch  the 
trees,  so  that  we   might  find  the  fire 


again. 


V 


48 


LYNTONVILLE. 


Philip  agreed  to  this  proposal,  but 
Harry  was  shocked  to  see  hira  sink  back 
faint  as  he  tried  to  rise. 

'•  Oh,  Philip,  dear  Philip,  what  is  the 
matter?  What  shall  I  do  if  you  are  ill  ? 
Stay,  I  '11  get  some  water ;"  and  hurry- 
ing down  to  the  tiny  stream,  he  soon 
came  back  with  some  in  his  cap,  and 
kneeling  down  he  began  to  bathe  Philip's 
face.  It  was  some  time  before  he  opened 
his  eyes. 

**  There,  that's  right,  old  fellow  j  you'x. 
be  better  directl3\  It 's  because  we  have 
not  eaten  any  thing  for  so  long,"  said 
Harry.  "I  feel  very  queer  too.  But 
how  cold  you  are ;"  and  in  a  moment  his 
coat  was  off,  and  he  was  wrapping  it 
round  his  friend. 

"Hark !  I  heard  a  shout;  I  am  certain 
I  did,"  cried  he  joyfully.  They  listened 
intently,  and  again  the  welcome  sound 
broke  upon  their  ears.     Harry  shouted 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE   FOREST. 


49 


with  all  his  might;  and  then,  to  their 
intense  joy,  they  heard  footsteps  ap- 
proaching, and  presently  the  friendly 
dusky  face  of  old  Peter  Musk  rat,  an  In- 
dian well  known  in  the  neighborhood, 
appeared  through  the  trees.  Over  his 
shoulder  was  slung  a  fawn,  and  the  string 
of  black  bass  in  his  hand  showed  he  had 
been  on  a  foraging  expedition.  Indeed 
so  good  a  hunter  was  he,  that  Mr.  Lyn- 
ton  was  accustomed  to  take  him  as  a 
guide  in  his  autumn  hunting  excursions. 
The  boys  made  him  understand  that  they 
had  lost  their  way,,  and  asked  him  to  help 
them. 

''Ughl  Lynton  good  man,"  said  he; 
"take  boys  home — ^give  Peter  blanket- 
coat  for  winter.  Come — squaw  give 
food — wigwam  not  far  off."  Then  seeing 
Philip  looked  pale  and  weak,  he  pro- 
duced a  flask  from  a  sort  of  birch-bark 
knapsack,    and    made   hini   swallow   a 


L)mtonvnit>. 


ill 


I 


50 


LYNTONVILLE. 


mouthful  of  something  which  took  away 
his  breath,  and  proved  to  be  whisky.  Jt 
revived  him,  however ;  but.  as  he  still 
lagged  behind,  old  Peter  took  him  up  in 
his  strong  arms  and  carried  him,  while 
Harry  followed  with  some  of  the  Indian's 
spoils.  After  a  while  they  began  to  hear 
the  roar  of  the  river,  and  a  turn  in  the 
path  brought  them  in  sight  of  the  Indian 
camp. 

It  consisted  of  a  few  tent-like  wigwams, 
and  at  the  doors,  or  rather  entrances  of 
two  or  three  of  them,  sat  several  squaws, 
some  making  baskets  to  sell  in  the  neigh- 
boring villages,  and  others  engaged  in 
ornamenting  their  deerskin  moccasins 
with  bright -colored  beads.  They  all 
wore  the  embroidered  leggings  and  moc- 
casins of  their  tribe,  but  the  rest  of  theii* 
costume  was  a  motley  mixture  of  civil- 
ized attire  and  their  own  native  gar- 
ments.   One  old  squaw,  who  proved  to 


ymm&K 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  FOKEST. 


51 


be  Muskrat's  wife,  was  watching  a  huge 
pot,  hung  over  a  wood  fire  by  means  of 
stakes  driven  into  the  ground,  the  con- 
tents of  which  she  stirred  now  and  then 
with  a  stick.  Old  Peter  threw  down  the 
fawn  and  the  fish  at  the  door  of  his  wig- 
wam, and  speaking  to  his  wife  in  their 
own  language,  they  conferred  together 
for  some  minutes.  The  b*oys  could  not 
help  laughing  at  some  of  the  little  baby 
Indians — papooses  as  they  called  them — 
which  were  bound  in  tight  swathing  bands 
to  a  flat  piece  of  birch-bark,  and  were 
hung  up  in  any  available  situation, 
whence  they  peered  about  with  their 
round  black  eyes.  "They  are  just  like 
the  tails  of  Bo-peep's  sheep,"  said  Harry, 
"all  hung  on  a  tree  to  dry."  By  this 
time  several  more  men  made  their  ap- 
pearance, but  took  very  little  notice  of 
the  boys  beyond  the  customary  "ugh" 
and  a  shrug  of  their  broad  shoulders. 


ilBiilU 


}{ 


52 


LYNTONVILLE. 


Presently  the  old  squaw  turning  out 
the  contents  of  the  great  pot  into  a  sort 
of  wooden  bowl  or  platter,  they  gathered 
round  it,  helping  themselves  with  their 
fingers,  while  the  women  kept  at  a  re- 
spectful distance.  Peter  gave  the  two 
boys  some  of  this  savory  dish  in  a  smaller 
bowl,  and  though  they  wondered  what 
they  were  eating,  they  were  too  hungry 
to  be  very  fastidious,  and  Harry  at  least 
did  ample  justice  to  the  meal.  "Ishouldn't 
be  surprised  if  this  were  bull-frog  stew," 
said  he  to  Philip;  "I  know  these  fellows 
eat  them,  and  the  little  bones  look  very 
suspicious.  However,  I  sha'n't  ask  any 
questions ;  I  never  was  so  hungry  in  all 
my  life." 

"I  wonder  whether  they  will  show  us 
the  way  home  soon,"  said  Philip,  who 
seemed  more  anxious  for  that  than  for 
any  thing  else,  "and  whether  any  one  has 
been  looking  for  us."    By  this  time  they 


^^jf^S^ii^Bi  . 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  FOBEST.  53 

had  finished,  and  old  Muskrat  brought 
them  the  bottle,  which  had  been  passing 
pretty  freely  from  mouth  to  mouth,  but 
the  boys  shook  their  heads.  **No!" 
said  he  in  surprise;  "leetle  boys  not 
know  what's  good;"  then  putting  it  to 
his  own  mouth,  he  drank  off  their  share 
as  if  it  were  so  much  water. 

"Peter's  squaw  show  way — Lynton 
give  blanket-coat,"  said  he  as  the  old 
woman  came  out  of  her  wigwam,  baskets 
in  hand,  in  hopes  of  getting  customers  at 
Lyntonville.  **Yes,  yes,"  said  Harry, 
much  amused  at  his  anxiety  to  be  paid 
for  his  trouble.  Taking  a  penknife,  which 
happened  to  be  nearly  new,  out  of  his 
pocket,  he  gave  it  to  the  old  man,  who 
grinned  with  delight.  They  then  bade 
adieu  to  the  friendly  Indians,  and  with  a 
last  look  at  the  funny  little  papooses,  they 
followed  the  Indian  along  the  banks  of 
the  river,  and  were  amazed  to  find  how 


Si^^i^ 


||llllll!fii 


ii   ri  a  I 


!  I     "^ 


hi 


iniii  ! 


I       l| 


-|,.|lll!  H 


54 


LTNTONVILLE. 


scon  they  reached  their  own  familiar 
haunts. 

When  they  came  in  sight  of  the  house, 
Harry  threw  up  his  cap  and  shouted 
"  hurrah  "  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  The 
two  mothers,  who  were  together,  heard 
the  welcome  sound,  and  hardly  daring 
to  believe  that  their  ears  had  not  de- 
ceived them,  rushed  into  the  verandah, 
and  in  a  few  moments  the  boys  were 
clasped  in  their  arms.  "My  dear,  dear 
boys,"  said  Mrs.  Lynton;  "thank  God, 
we  have  you  safe  again.  Where  have 
you  been?  Your  father,  Harry,  and 
the  neighbors  have  been  out  all  night 
searching  for  you." 

Numberless  were  the  questions  that 
poured  in  upon  thom;  and  meanwhile 
the  old  squaw  stood  with  characteristic 
patience  awaiting  their  leisure,  for  she 
had  no  idea  of  departing  without  a  gift 
of  some  sort.    She  %as  liberally  reward- 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  f  OEEST.  65 

ed,  and  obtained  a  promise  of  the  blanket- 
coat  upon  which  old  Peter  seemed  to 
have  set  his  heart.  A  meal  was  also 
provided  for  her,  and  to  the  boys'  aston- 
ishment, she  not  only  managed  to  dis- 
pose of  a  large  portion  of  a  round  of 
beef,  but  stowed  away  the  remainder  in 
her  basket,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  a  loaf 
of  goodly  size  which  had  been  placed 
before  her.  The  boys  were  not  aware 
that  Indian  etiquette  obliged  her  to  do 
this,  as  to  leave  any  food  put  before  them 
on  the  table  would  be  considered  a  breach 
of  good  manners. 


!  1 


'  '^Wll  illN- 


66 


LYNTONVILLE. 


CHAPTER  y. 

BREAKING-UP  DAY  AT  SCHOOL. 

"  'T  is  not  the  eye  of  keenest  blaze, 
Nor  the  quick-swelling  breast, 
That  soonest  thrills  at  touch  of  praise  : 
These  do  not  please  Him  best." 

It  was  too  late  to  attend  the  morning 
service,  which  must  have  been  aiieady 
begun  ere  they  reached  their  home,  and 
the  boys  were  glad  to  rest  a  while  after 
their  long  walk  and  sleepless  night ;  but 
in  the  afternoon  the  whole  party  set  out 
for  the  little  church  at  Fairfield.  As 
they  approached,  the  bell  began  to  ring, 
and  Philip  thought  he  had  never  heard 
music  so  sweet  as  that  which  called  the 
worshippers  together  to  the  house  of  God. 
They  entered  the  church  with  hearts 
thankful  that  they  were  once  more  per- 


BREAKING-UP  DAY  AT  SCHOOL.       57 

mitted  to  engage  all  together  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  sanctuary.  Earnestly  they 
joined  in  the  prayers  and  praises  which 
were  offered ;  and  when  Mr.  Redfern  the 
minister  went  into  the  pulpit  and  gave 
out  his  text,  Harry  and  Philip  were 
struck  with  the  singular  appropriateness 
of  the  passage.  It  was  this:  "Oh  that 
men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  his  good- 
ness, and  for  his  wonderful  works  to  the 
children  of  men  !'^  Psa.  107  :  8.  They 
listened  still  more  attentively  when  the 
preacher  referred  to  the  verses  preced- 
ing it:  "They  wandered  in  the  wilder- 
ness in  a  solitary  way;  they -found  no 
city  to  dwell  in.  Hungry  and  thirsty, 
their  soul  fainted  in  them.  Then  they 
cried  unto  the  Lord  in  their  trouble,  and 
he  delivered  them  out  of  their  distresses. 
And  he  led  thfem  forth  by  the  right  way, 
that  they  might  go  to  a  city  of  habita- 
tion." 


68 


LYNTONVILLE. 


"My  brethren,"  said  the  good  man, 
"  who  is  there  among  us  that  cannot  tes- 
tify to  the  goodness  of  the  Lord  ?  Who 
cannot  point  to  some  special  deliverance 
at  some  time  or  other  of  their  lives — 
some  danger  averted,  or  life  spared,  when 
no  human  arm  was  near  to  aid,  no  human 
voice  to  comfort  and  assure  ?  Aye,  and 
when  the  cry  for  help  and  deliverance 
from  the  threatened  danger  has  been 
wrung  from  a  full  heart,  has  it  not 
many  a  time  been  coupled  with  a  vow, 
that  once  free,  once  escaped,  the  spared 
life  should  be  devoted  to  the  service  of 
the  strong  Deliverer?  If  any  such  are 
here,  let  me  urge  them  to  remember  that 
hour,  and  to  pay  unto  the  Lord  these 
solemn  vows. 

"But  while  we  consider  these  verses 
in  their  literal  meaning,  we  must  not  for- 
get that  there  are  far  greater  perils  be- 
setting each  precious  soul,  than  any  that 


BREAKING- UP  DAY  AT  SCHOOL.   69 

can  happen  to  the  body.  My  friends, 
have  we  not  all  wandered  from  the  strait 
path?  Have  we  not  all  strayed  into  the 
wilderness  of  this  sinful  world,  and  turned 
aside  from  the  narrow  gate  which  leadeth 
unto  life  ?  The  pleasures  of  sin  have  lured 
us  on  and  on,  like  the  bright  flowers  by 
the  wayside,  until  at  length  oui'feet  begin 
to  stumble  upon  the  slippery  paths,  and 
thorns  and  briers  grow  up  where  the 
fragrant  blossoms  have  been.  What  a 
picture  is  here  of  the  world  which  lieth 
in  wickedness.  Thanks  be  to  God,  some 
among  us  have  escaped  from  its  snares, 
and  can  now  join  in  the  song  of  the  re- 
deemed. But  are  there  none  here  whose 
souls  are  fainting  within  them  because 
the  pleasures  have  faded,  and  the  trou- 
bles and  the  weariness  of  sin  remain? 
Oh,  my  brethren,  there  is  redemption  for 
you;  there  is  a  city  to  dwell  in  prepared 
for  you;  if  you  will  only  seek  it  in  the 


60 


LYNTONVILLE. 


right  way,  through  the  blood  and  right 
eousness  of  our  loving  Saviour.  In  Christ 
there  is  deliverance;  in  Christ  there  is 
rest ;  in  Christ  there  is  pardon  and  peace. 
He  is  the  Door — we  must  enter  by  him. 
He  is  the  Way — we  mu^t  follow  him. 
He  is  the  Eock — we  must  trust  in  him. 
He  is  the  Life — in  him  we  have  life  ever- 
lasting. 

''Let  us  ask  the  aid  of  his  promised 
Comforter,  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  teach  us  all 
things  and  testify  to  us  of  him;  to  work 
in  us  the  grace  of  true  repentance;  to 
guide  us  into  all  truth,  and  deliver  us 
from  all  evil.  Withoujt  the  help  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  we  can  do  nothing ;  but  we 
never  seek  his  aid  in  vain,  for  our  Lord 
himself  has  said,  '  If  ye  then,  being  evil, 
know  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your 
children,  how  much  more  shall  your 
heavenly  Father  give  the  Holy  Spirit  to 
them  that  ask  him.'    Luke  11 :  13. 


BREAKING-UP  DAY  AT  SCHOOL.      61 

"Thus,  trusting  in  Christ  alone,  and 
relying  on  the  promised  help  of  his  Holy 
Spirit,  we  shall  be  enabled  to  praise  the 
Lord,  not  only  with  our  lips  but  in  our 
lives,  walking  before  him  in  'holiness 
and  righteousness  all  the  days  of  our 
life.'" 

As  the  boys  walked  home  together 
after  service,  Harry  looked  very  grave, 
and  was  silent  for  some  time.  At  length 
he  said,  "Oh,  Philip,  did  not  the  sermon 
seem  like  a  message  to  us?  I  am  sure 
we  ought  to  praise  God  for  being  saved 
from  death.  When  the  bear  came  so 
close  to  us  last  night,  I  prayed  to  God  to 
deliver  us;  and  I  thought  if  we  could 
only  get  safe  home  again,  I  would  serve 
God  all  my  life.  But,  Philip,  it  is  so 
hard  for  us  boys  to  do  any  thing  to  serve 
God :  if  we  were  men  it  would  be  a  dif- 
ferent thing.  I  do  n't  see  what  I  can  do 
Ho  show  forth  his  praise.'" 


62 


LYNTONVILLE. 


'  I  do  n^t  know,"  said  Philip ;  "  but  it 
seems  to  me  that  all  we  can  do  is  to  try 
and  do  our  best  in  our  every  day  duties, 
I  .mean  our  lessons  and  things ;  because 
I  have  heard  my  mother  say  that  God 
has  a  work  for  every  one  to  do,  accord- 
ing to  his  age  and  etation  in  life.  You 
remember  that  verse  where  St.  Paul  says, 
'  With  good  will  doing  service,  as  to  the 
Lord,  and  not  to  men;'  and  don't  you 
think  we  can  serve  God  by  being 
steady  and  diligent  and  obedient,  and 
all  that?" 

"I  suppose  that  is  the  way,  Phil;  but 
I  always  forget." 

"  We  must  ask  God  to  help  us,  Harry, 
by  his  Holy  Spirit,  for  Christ's  sake," 
said  Philip. 

Philip's  advice  was  remembered,  and 
from  this  time  Harry  did  become  m 
inilustrious  and   painstaking  ;    and   Ls 
mother's  heart  rejoiced  when  she  saw*her 


BREAKING. UP  DAY  AT  SCHOOL.   63 

son  striving  to  do  his  duty  for  the  Lord's 
sake. 

The  two  boys  were  the  heroes  of  the 
school  on  the  following  day,  and  they  had 
to  relate  their  adventures  again  and  again 
for  the  amusement  of  their  companions. 
The  Wednesday  after  this  event  had  been 
fixed  for  the  examination  and  breaking 
up  of  the  school  for  the  summer  vacation. 
As  many  parents  came  on  that  day  to 
assure  themselves  of  their  sons'  progress 
during  the  past  term,  the  boys  always 
endeavored  to  make  their  school  look  as 
festive  as  possible,  by  decking  it  with 
cedar-boughs  and  bright  flowers.  The 
examination  this  year  was  more  largely 
attended  than  usual;  and  Mrs.  Lynton 
persuaded  Mrs.  Quin  to  join  their  party, 
as  it  was  understood  that  Philip  would 
be  declared  first  in  the  school.  Some  of 
the  parents  had  subscribed  a  sum  suflS- 
cient  to  enable  Mr.  Elmslie  to  give  a  few 


r 


C4 


LYNTONVILLZ. 


'H 


mn: 


prizes  for  the  encouragement  of  his  jschol- 
ars,  though  it  was  not  the  usual  custom 
of  the  school.  Great  was  the  excitement 
therefore  on  the  appointed  day,  for 
none  of  the  boys  knew  who  would  be  the 
fortunate  winners  of  the  much-coveted 
pijizes. 

The  examination  was  to  'begin  at  two 
o'clock,  and  before  that  hour  many  visit- 
ors had  arrived.  The  younger  boys,  for 
Mr.  Elmslie  began  with  the  lower  class- 
es, acquitted  themselves  very  fairly,  and 
received  a  general  commendation  for  dil- 
igence in  their  studies. 

At  length  it  was  the  turn  of  the  first 
class  to  go  up,  and  greater  interest  began 
to  be  shown,  as  it  was  to  be  subjected  to  a  , 
much  more  difficult  examination.  Philip, 
though  evidently  nervous,  passed  most 
creditably,  and  without  a  doubt  was  en- 
titled to  hold  the  first  place.  Harry, 
much  to  his  own  surprise,  ranked  second. 


BREAKING- UP  DAY  AT  SCHOOL.   65 

Poor  Hardy,  who  had  hitherto  looked 
upon  the  examination  as  his  own  partic- 
ular triumph,  was  completely  crestfallen 
that  he  was  so  far  down  on  the  list. 
Philip  therefore  received  the  prize  for 
general  proiSciency  in  school  work ;  and 
as  each  class  was  only  entitled  to  one 
prize,  the  others  were  distributed  among 
the  younger  boys. 

When  all  were  given,  it  was  seen  that 
Mr.  Elmslie  laid  a  handsomely  bound 
Bible  upon  the  desk  before  him,  and  ad- 
dressing the  boys,  he  said,  "My  lads,  it 
has  given  me  much  pleasure  to  distribute 
among  you  the  prizes  which  have  been 
kindly  placed  at  my  disposal  to  bestow 
upon  those  who  deserve  encouragement 
for  diligent  attention  to  their  studies.  Of 
course,  where  there  are  so  many  compet- 
itors, it  must  necessarily  happen  that 
many  are  disappointed.  To  these  I  would 
say  one  cheering  wordj  that  while  one 


vB 


LYNTONVILLE. 


in  each  class  has  done  best,  yet  there  are 
several  who  have  done  well.  It  is  not 
always  the  boy  who  works  hardest  that 
wins  the  prize ;  for  ability  and  qnickness 
go  far  to  help  some,  of  whose  industry  I 
cannot  say  much.  I  have  therefore  made 
out  a  list  of  those  in  the  whole  school, 
whom  I  find  by  my  books  to  merit  special 
commendation,  which  I  have  now  much 
pleasure  in  reading." 

Here  followed  a  long  list  of  names ; 
and  many  a  little  boy*s  eyes  sparkled 
with  delight  when  he  heard  his  own 
'among  them.  Mr.  Elmslie  at  leiigth  fold- 
ed up  the  paper,  and  continued,  '*The 
prizes  which  have  been  bestowed  among 
you  to-day,  are  simply  intended,  as  you 
all  know,  to  testify  to  your  proficiency  in 
the  various  branches  of  study  in  which 
you  are  engaged.  To  the  number  of 
these  I  have  added  one  as  a  reward  for 
good  conduct  during  the  past  year,  and 


vn 


BEEAKING-UP  DAY  AT  SCHOOL.      67 

a  token  of  my  own  regard  for  the  boy 
who  best  deserves  it.  I  have  chosen  a 
Bible  for  this  purpose ;  first,  because  it 
is  the  best  of  all  books ;  and  secondly, 
because  it  is  the  best  of  all  guides  in  en- 
abling those  who  seek  instruction  from  its 
pages  to  lead  a  God-fearing,  useful,  and 
noble  life.  I  have  endeavored  to  choose 
among  you  all  as  impartially  as  possible, 
and  I  hope  when  I  name  Philip  Quin  as 
the  owner  of  the  book  I  hold  in  my  hand, 
that  my  choice  will  be  approved  by  his 
companions." 

"Hurrah,  yes,  yes.  He  is  a  good  fel- 
low," cried  many  voices;  and  Philip, 
with  much  surprise  and  a  glowing  face, 
went  up  to  the  desk  to  receive  the  beau- 
tiful gift. 

"And  now,  my  lads,"  resumed  Mr. 
Elmslie,  "x  will  not  detain  you  longer 
than  to  wish  you  all  a  very  pleasant  holi- 
day; and  may  God  have  us  all  in  his 


68 


LYNTONVILLE. 


most  holy  keeping,  both  now  and  al- 
ways." 

The  boys  began  to  cheer  as  soon  as  he 
had  finished,  and  very  soon  the  books 
were  passing  from  hand  to  hand,  excit- 
ing many  remarks  and  great  admiration. 
Philip  found  his  way  at  once  to  his  moth- 
er's side.  Her  eyes  were  full  of  tears  as 
she  whispered  a  few  words  of  loving  ap- 
proval to  her  only  son,  who  gave  promise 
of  being  a  real  blessing  and  comfort  to 
his  widowed  mother.  Yery  soon  the 
school-house  was  empty,  and  various 
groups  of  the  boys  and  their  parents  were 
seen  wending  their  way  to  their  several 
homes ;  and  very  few  carried  away  with 
them  any  other  feelings  than  those  of 
pleasure  and  satisfaction  at  the  events  of 
the  day. 

There  was  one  however  whose  face 
wore  a  scowl  as  he  mci  Philip,  and  in 
whose  heart  evil  feelings  of  anger  and 


BREAKING- UP  DAY  AT  SCHOOL.   69 

revenge  were  burning.  This  one  was 
Tom  Hardy.  Never  before  bad  an  ex- 
amination passed  so  much  to  his  disad- 
vantage, and  his  was  not  the  disposition 
to  bear  meekly  any  fancied  wrong.  Poor 
boy,  we  must  not  judge  him  too  harshly, 
for  he  had  few  of  the  advantages  our 
young  friends  Harry  and  Philip  possess- 
ed. No  loving  mother  had  he,  to  soothe 
his  angry  spirit  or  gently  to  instil  holy 
principles  into  his  mind;  and  his  father 
was  a  harsh,  money-making  and  money- 
loving  man,  with  little  time  and  less  in- 
clination to  train  his  children  in  a  right 
way. 

Tom  was  reckoned  a  sharp,  smart  lad, 
and  Mr.  Hardy's  friends  did  not  fajl  to 
speak  honied  words  of  praise  of  him,  too 
often  in  his  hearing,  in  order  to  curry 
favor  with  his  father,  who  was  looked 
upon  by  some  of  the  smaller  settlers  as 
a  great  man  in  that  district.    Tom  Hardy 


70 


LYNTONVILLE. 


left  the  school-house  with  angry  thoughts 
in  his  heart  and  angry  words  on  his  lips. 
"  I  '11  be  even  with  him  yet,"  said  he  to 
himself;  "I  thought  something  was  in 
the  wind,  with  his  meek  religious  ways, 
sneak  as  he  is,  all  to  get  on  the  right 
side  of  old  Elmslie  j  but  1 11  teach  him." 
He  seemed  lost  in  thought  for  a  while, 
and  then  quickening  his  pace,  muttering 
in  a  low  tone,  "  That  will  do ;  I  Ve  hit  it,^- 
he  ran  down  the  hill  and  disappeared. 

But  what  was  passing  in  Philip's  mind 
at  the  same  time  ?  We  fear  a  humble, 
lowly  spirit  was  no  longer  his ;  for  as  ho 
passed  Hardy  his  heart  flowed  with  ex- 
ultation at  his  own  success,  and  his  feel- 
ings were  akin  to  those  of  the  Pharisee 
who  dared  to  thank  God  that  he  was  not 
as  other  men.  Ah,  how  short,  at  any 
time,  is  the  step  between  us  and  sin; 
and  what  need  to  pray  for  God's  pre- 
venting grace.    All  day  he  hugged  vain 


BREAKING-UP  DAY  AT  SCHOOL.       71 

thoughts  of  his  goodness  close  to  his 
heart,  though  none  suspected  it ;  but  af- 
terwards, when  he  knelt  down  at  night, 
his  conscience  smote  him  as  he  remem- 
bered that  his  Father  in  heaven,  from 
whom  no  secrets  are  hid,  had  read  the 
thoughts  of  his  inmost  heart.  A  sense 
of  his  sin  in  God's  sight  weighed  him 
down,  and  he  whom  all  had  praised  that 
day  closed  it  in  the  secrecy  of  his  own 
little  chamber  with  the  heartfelt  prayer, 
"  God  be  mercififl  to  me  a  sinner." 

In  the  mean  time  the  Lyntonville 
party,  with  the  addition  of  Mrs.  Quin, 
Philip,  and  Mr.  Elmslie,  had  reached 
home,  and  the  pleasant  day  was  brought 
to  a  close  by  a  row  in  Mr.  Lynton's  large 
boat  on  the  river.  The  short  twilight 
had  already  begun,  but  a  bright  star 
twinkled  here  and  there  in  the  dark  blue 
sky,  to  light  them  on  their  way.  There 
was  a  hush  in  the  air  which  told  of  the 


72 


LYNTONVILLE. 


coming  hours  of  stillness  and  rest,  bro- 
ken only  by  the  sighing  of  the  wind  in 
the  tree- tops,  mingled  with  the  distant 
lowing  of  cattle  or  the  loud  croak  of  the 
bullfrog  close  at  hand.  Fireflies  flitted 
about,  gleaming  like  flashing  emeralds 
among  the  low  bushes  by  the  water-side ; 
and  the  plash  of  the  oars  kept  time  to 
the  evening  hymn  begun  by  Mrs.  Lyn- 
ton^s  sweet  voice,  and  sung  in  chorus  by 
all  the  party.  Harry  thought  he  had 
never  loved  their  beautiful  river  so  much 
before;  and  he  bade  his  friend  "good- 
night" with  unmingled  happiness,  rejoic- 
ing in  his  success.  The  dew  was  falling 
fast,  and  the  night  wind  blew  with  a  chilly 
breath  as  they  hastened  homeward ;  but 
little  did  any  of  them  dream  of  the  change 
that  a  few  short  hours  would  work  on 
that  peaceful  scene. 


WHAT  CAME  OP  IT. 


78 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WHAT  CAME  OP  IT. 

"  Pire  is  a  good  servant,  bnt  a  bad  master." 
"Behold,  how  great  a  matter  a  little  fire  kindleth!*' 

Had  any  one  watched  the  stealthy 
footsteps  of  a  boy  who,  under  the  dark- 
ening shades  of  that  summer  night,  left 
the  village  of  Fairfield  and  proceeded  in 
the  direction  of  Mrs.  Quints  cottage,  they 
could  hardly  have  failed  to  suspect  mis- 
chief; and  Tom  Hardy,  for  it  was  he, 
might  well  stop  at  every  sound,  and  draw 
back  into  deeper  shadow.  It  was  but 
the  wind  however,  as  it  blew  back  the 
hair  from  his  hot  forehead,  or  the  echo 
of  his  own  footfall  in  the  stillness,  that 
startled  him.  His  conscience  whispered, 
"  Turn  back,  Tom,  turn  back ;  think  what 
you  are  going  to  do  f  but  in  vain  j  Tom 


74 


LYNTONVILLE. 


would  not  listen.  He  tried  to  stifle  its 
voice.  "It  was  no  such  great  matter, 
after  all  "  said  he  to  himself ;  he  was 
only  going  to  set  fire  to  Philip's  bower ; 
that  would  do  him  no  real  harm  ;  he 
might  build  it  again,  if  he  liked.  It 
would  but  make  him  angry ;  and  then 
what  fun  it  would  be  to  see  Philip,  the 
meek,  Philip,  in  a  rage  next  morning, 
when  he  found  a  few  smouldering  ruins 
all  that  remained  of  his  work.  The  best 
of  it  would  be  too,  that  no  one  would  be 
able  to  discover  the  cause  of  the  fire  ;  he 
would  take  good  care  of  that.  And 
Hardy  laughed  a  low,  exultant  laugh  as 
he  thought  over  the  capital  revenge  he 
had  planned. 

By  this  time  he  had  reached  the  house. 
All  was  still,  and  he  crept  round  to  the 
back,  and  looked  up  at  the  windows. 
"  There  's  no  light,"  thought  he,  "  so  they 
must  be  in  bed  and  asleep."     Stealing 


he 


WHAT  OAME  OF  IT.  75 

to  the  arbor,  he  began  carefully  to  build 
up  beside  it  a  small  stack  of  tarred  sticks 
and  shavings  just  where  the  rising  wind 
would  fan  the  flame,  when  the  loud  crow- 
ing of  a  cock  close  by  made  him  start 
and  listen  ;  but  all  was  silent  again,  and 
he  went  on  with  his  work.  Whepi  it  was 
done  to  his  satisfaction,  he  struck  a  match ; 
guarding  it  with  trembling  hands  from 
the  breeze  which  threatened  to  put  it  out, 
and  stooping  slowly,  he  applied  the  light 
to  the  little  heap.  Then,  only  waiting 
an  instant  to  make  sure  that  the  shav- 
ings had  caught  fire,  he  fled  away  from 
the  spot  as  though  he  were  pursued,  and 
never  once  looked  behind  him  until  he 
reached  the  village.  Creeping  quietly 
in  by  a  back  way,  he  managed  to  elude 
observation,  and  watching  his  opportu- 
nity, got  up  to  his  room,  and  lay  down 
on  his  bed  as  he  had  done  many  a  night 
before,  unnoticed  by  any  of  the  house- 


76 


LYNTONVILLE. 


hold,  a  prayerless,  ungodly,  miserable 
boy. 

He  could  not  sleep.  Every  sound 
startled  him ;  and  he  wondered  as  he 
lay  in  the  dark  whether  Philip  had  been 
awakened  by  the  red  glare  of  the  burn- 
ing summer-house  or  by  the  crackling  of 
the  flames.  The  possibility  had  escaped 
him  before,  but  now  it  seemed  unlikely 
that  they  could  sleep  through  it.  Rest- 
less and  feverish  with  excitement,  he 
tossed  about  from  one  side  to  the  other. 
Then  it  struck  him  that  the  match  might 
have  been  blown  out  by  a  puff  of  wind 
before  it  had  time  thoroughly  to  kindle 
the  shavings.  There  was  relief  in  the 
thought ;  and  as  he  flung  off  the  light 
bedclothes  to  cool  his  fevered  limbs  he 
exclaimed,  "I  hope  it  isn't  burning.  I 
shall  be  glad,  after  all,  though  I  did  want 
to  tease  him."  But  the  little  pile  of 
sticks — that  would  lead  to  suspicion  j  and 


WHAT  GAME  OF  IT. 


77 


he  would  be  suspected  too,  as  his  feel- 
ings towards  Quin  were  well  known. 
"Oh,"  he  cried,  "I  wish  I  hadn't  done 
it ;  what  a  fool  I  have  been."  His  teeth 
began  to  chatter,  and  he  pulled  the  bed- 
clothes up  again.  **  Well,  I  must  go  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning,  before  it's 
light,"  thought  he,  "and  take  'em  away, 
if  they  have  n't  caught ;  and  if  I  do  meet 
any  one  about,  I  '11  tell  'em  I  'm  looking 
for  a  robin's  nest  or  something.  How 
the  wind  is  rising  too.  What  if  it  is 
burning,  after  all  ?" 

But  hark !  the  boy  sprang  up,  for  the 
loud  clang  of  the  fire-bell  broke  upon  his 
ear.  His  heart  died  within  him  ;  it  was 
discovered.  All  Fairfield  was  speedily 
aroused.  "Fire!  fire!"  shouted  a  voice 
in  the  street,  and  Tom  heard  his  father 
open  his  window  and  ask  in  what  direc- 
tion it  was. 

**  Can't  quite  make  out,"  said  the  man ; 


mmm" 


1% 


LYNTONVILLE. 


i!l! 


"down  by  the  river  somewhere.  May- 
iiap  it 's  only  a  barn ;  but  I  'ro  off  to  see." 
Then  came  the  loud  rattle  of  the  engine 
as  the  firemen  dragged  it  down  the  vil- 
lage street;  and  Tom's  door  opened,  and 
his  father  called  out,  "  Come  on,  Tom, 
I  'm  going  to  see  the  fun ;  they  say  it 's 
the  widow  Quin's  cottage."  Tom  pre- 
tended to  wake  from  a  deep  sleep. 
"What's  the  maMer?"  said  he,  as  well 
as  his  choking  voice  would  let  him. 

"Why,  it's  a  fire,  lad,  a  fire.  You 
can't  be  sleeping  through  all  this  din, 
surely.  Come  along  with  me  j  I  'm  go- 
ing down."  ^ 

"I  don't  care  to  see  it,"  said  Tom 
gruffly;  "I'm  sleepy;"  and  he  turned 
over  again  as  if  in  a  heavy  slumber. 
Mr.  Hardy  hurried  off. 

The  cottage  on  fire!  Oh  no,  it  could 
not  be ;  it  was  too  terrible  to  be  true. 
Surely  the  cottage  was  too  far  off  to  be 


WHAT  CAME  OF  IT.  79 

in  any  danger.  Tom  shivered  from  head 
to  foot,  and  the  perspiration  streamed 
down  his  face.  He  never  dreamed  that 
it  would  come  to  this ;  and  if  it  should 
be  discovered  that  he  had  lit  that  dread- 
ful  firo,  what  then?  He  would  be  thrown 
into  prison,  and  brought  to  trial  before  a 
judge.  Mingled  with  his  terror  of  an 
earthly  tribunal  came  a  vague  recollec- 
tion of  words  from  God's  book,  of  awful 
\,'oe  to  those  who  "devoured  widows' 
houses." 

Eagerly  he  listened,  straining  his  ear 
to  catch  every  distant  sound,  till  he  could 
bear  the  suspense  no  longer,  and  hurry- 
ing on  his  clothes,  he  rushed  out  into  the 
street.  He  knew  only  too  well  the  direc- 
tion in  which  to  go,  and  when  ho  reached 
the  bridge  he  could  see  the  lurid  sky 
and  the  fierce  flames  leaping  up  through 
the  thick  smoke,  though  the  cottage  was 
partly  hidden  by  trees.   It  was  too  true, 


80  LYNTONVILLE. 

and  he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands 
to  shut  out  the  terrible  sight.  "Oh," 
he  exclaimed,  **  I  did  not  mean  to  do  any 
thing  so  dreadful  as  this ;  I  never  thought 
the  fire  would  go  further  than  the  bower  ; 
what  shall  I  do  ?  what  shall  I  do  V  But 
it  was  useless  to  loiter,  and  he  rushed 
madly  on.  Once  his  foot  caught  in  a 
stump,  and  he  fell  heavily ;  but  he  was 
up  in  a  moment,  and  ran  on  again  until 
he  reached  the  spot. 

What  a  sight  it  was!  The  engine  was 
working,  but  not  effectively,  for  part  of 
the  machinery  needed  repair;  and  the 
red  flames  shot  up,  hissing  and  roaring, 
licking  up  the  water  with  their  forked 
tongues,  and  destroying  all  before  them. 
Not  a  hope  remained  of  saving  any  part 
of  the  building.  Tom  saw  Philip  with 
Harry  Lynton  and  several  other  lads, 
but  he  avoided  them,  and  asked  a  fire- 
man where  Mrs.  Quin  was. 


WHAT  CA  ME  OP  IT. 


81 


"They've  taken  her  up  to  Lynton- 
ville.  It 's  a  terrible  business  for  her, 
poor  thing,"  said  the  man  as  he  hurried 
away. 

The  parlor  as  yet  had  not  suffered 
much,  for  the  back  of  the  house  had 
caught  lire  first ;  and  it  came  into  Tom's 
mind  to  try  and  rescue  something*.  He 
forced  his  way  into  the  room  through  the 
scorching  heat  and  smoke.  Most  of  the 
furniture  had  been  removed ;  but  a  few 
things  still  remained,  and  lying  on  a 
chair  was  Philip's  beautiful  Bible  and 
his  prize.  Could  it  really  be  so  .^hort  a 
time  since  the  books  were  placed  in  his 
hands,  and  yet  that  they  had  become  the 
innocent  cause  of  all  this  evil  ?  Oh  that 
Tom  could  have  recalled  those  hours ;  he 
would  not  have  acted  as  he  had  done. 
He  caught  up  the  books,  and  as  he 
tried  to  pass  out  his  foot  struck  against 
something  on  the  floor.     It  was  a  small 

Ljmtonvlll*.  n 


82 


LYNTONVILLE. 


miniature  portrait.  He  picked  it  up 
and  made  his  way  to  the  door;  but  the 
flames  had  burst  into  the  passage  and 
drove  him  back,  while  a  shout  was  raised 
outside  that  the  roof  was  falling.  Not  a 
moment  was. to  be  lost,  and  he  dashed 
through  the  smoke  and  flame  only  just  in 
time  to  escape  being  crushed  beneath  the 
falling  rafters;  as  it  was,  his  hair  and 
clothes  were  singed,  and  he  was  consid- 
erably burned.  After  this  the  fire  began 
to  subside,  and  Tom  stood  gazing  at  the 
scene,  with  Philip's  books  in  his  hand, 
like  one  bewildered.  Philip  too  stood 
there  with  folded  arms,  looking  with  a 
sad,  sad  face  at  the  ruins  of  his  home — 
his  mother's  little  all  consumed  in  an 
hour.  Harry  was  trying  to  comfort  him, 
but  Philip  could  not  be  comforted.  Pres- 
ently Hardy  came  up,  with  blackened 
face,  and  his  hand  tied  up  in  his  handker- 
chief.   *'  Look  here,  Quin,  I  found  these,'* 


&* 


WHAT  CAME  OF  IT.  83 

said  he  as  he  put  the  books  and  the  min- 
iature into  his  hands. 

**  My  books,"  cried  Philip,  "and  papa^s 
likeness !  Oh,  Hardy,  how  did  you  get 
them  ?  My  mother  will  be  so  pleased  to 
have  this  again.  How  can  I  thank  you?" 
and  his  conscience  smote  him  as  he  re- 
membered his  sinful  feelings  on  the  pre- 
vious dav. 

"Why,  Hardy,"  said  Harry,  "you^re 
hurt.  Did  you  get  burnt?  What's  the 
matter?" 

The  boy  looked  very  white,  and  turned 
away,  muttering,  "It's  nothing — never 
mind.  I  'm  glad  I  got  them."  But  Philip 
followed  him. 

"Let  me  see  your  hand,  Hardy;  I'm 
sure  it  hurts  you  very  much.  I  am  so 
sorry."  Hardy  winced  as  he  tried  to  un- 
bind his  hand.  He  felt  happier,  in  spite 
of  the  pain,  than  he  had  done,  but  he 
could  not  stand  Philip's  thanks. 


84 


LYNTONVILLE. 


**I  say,  Quin,  leave  it  alone,"  said  he, 
"I  '11  see  to  it  when  I  get  home." 

"But  you  don't  know  what  to  do," 
cried  Harry;  "come  along  with  us,  and 
I  '11  get  my  mother  to  bind  it  up  for  you. 
She  knows  all  about  burns." 

"No,  no,"  said  Hardy;  "there's  my 
father,  I  '11  go  home  with  him." 

"Hollo,  youngster,"  said  Mr.  Hardy, 
when  he  saw  his  son,  "so  you  came  after 
all.  I  thought  you  wouldn't  be  long 
after  me.  But  what 's  this  you  've  been 
after — getting  yourself  burnt,  eh  ?  Why, 
what  a  fool  you  must  have  been  to  get 
into  the  thick  of  it  that  way.  But  never 
mind,  never  mind,  lad,"  added  he,  rub- 
bing his  hands,  as  he  thought  of  the  cus- 
tom the  fire  would  be  likely  to  bring  to 
his  store,  "it's  an  ill  wind  that  blows 
nobody  good."  So  saying,  Mr.  Hardy 
and  Tom  went  on  their  way. 


PHILIP'S  DISCOVERY. 


85 


CHAPTER  YII. 


PHILIP'S  DISCOVERY. 

*'  Hush,  idle  tbonghts  and  words  of  ill, 
Your  Lord  is  listening  ;  peace,  be  siiU.'* 

"  Be  sure  your  sin  will  ^d  you  out." 

As  soon  as  it  was  light  next  morning, 
Philip,  who  could  not  sleep  after  the  ex- 
citement and  fatigue  he  had  undergone, 
went  down  to  reconnoitre  the  scene  of 
the  fire.  Nothing  remained  of  his  little 
home  but  blackened  and  still  smoking 
embers.  It  was  a  sad  sight,  for  Philip 
knew  that  with  the  house  his  mother  had 
lost  her  all.  It  had  always  been  his 
comfort  hitherto,  that  at  least  her  home 
was  her  own ;  and  he  had  looked  forward 
to  the  happy  day  when,  by  his  own  exer- 
tions, he  might  be  able  in  some  measure 
to  repay  her  tender  care  and  love  for 


86 


LYNTONVILLE. 


bim.  Now  all  his  bright  hopes  were 
dashed  to  the  ground — and  in  how  short 
a  time !  He  felt  very  sorrowful  as  he  . 
looked  at  the  ruins,  and  at  the  spot  where 
the  arbor  had  been.  He  thought  of  the 
many  happy  hours  he  had  spent  there. 
Would  he  ever  be  happy  again?  for  it 
seemed  as  though  this  terrible  fire  had 
destroyed  all  his  prospects  for  life.  His 
great  ambition  had  been  to  study  hard, 
and  by  means  of  his  education  to  make 
his  way  in  the  world.  But  now,  if  he 
continued  at  school,  his  mother  would  be 
obliged  to  work.  The  thought  was  not 
to  be  endured  for  a  moment.  No,  he 
must  put  his  shoulder  to  the  wheel,  and 
at  once.  There  was  only  one  thing  open 
to  him :  he  must  become  a  clerk  in  a 
store;  and  a  sharp  conflict  ensued  be- 
tween his  rebellious  spirit  and  his  strong 
sense  of  duty.  While  his  mind  was  thus 
occupied,  his  eye  caught  the  glitter  of 


PHILIP'S  DISCOVEBY. 


87 


something  lying  on  the  ground.  Me- 
chanically he  stooped  and  picked  it  np ; 
it  was  an  open  knife,  with  **T.  Hardy" 
roughly  cut  upon  the  handle.  He  slipped 
it  into  his  pocket,  intending  to  give  it 
back  when  they  next  met,  and  the  in- 
cident hardly  interrupted  his  train  of 
thought. 

"Why,  Philip,  my  boy,"  said  Mr. 
Lynton,  who  had  come  up  to  him  una- 
wares, "I  did  not  expect  to  find  you 
here.  I  thought  you  were  safe  in  bed, 
and  that's  where  you  should  be,"  he 
added  kindly,  looking  at  his  pale,  wan 
face;  "this  sad  business  has  been  too 
much  for  you." 

"  I  could  n't  sleep,  sir,  and  I  thought 
I  would  come  down  and  look  at  the  old 
place  again  before  any  one  was  about." 

"That's  my  reason  for  coming  also, 
my  boy,  for  we  may  find  some  clue  to 
account  for  it.     It 's  a  strange  business, 


88 


LYNTONVILLP. 


very  strange,"  said  Mr.  Lynton,  musing. 
"Was  the  house  on  fire  when  you  were 
first  roused  ?'^ 

"Yes;  I  woke  up  quite  suddenly,  and 
found  the  room  full  of  smoke.  I  had 
only  just  time  to  rush  into  my  mother's 
room  and  arouse  her,  and  to  wake  Biddy, 
before  the  flames  burst  in  through  the 
roof.  You  know  it  was  at  the  back  of 
the  house,  sir ;  and  by  the  time  we  got 
down  the  engine  was  close  by.  They 
had  seen  it  at  the  village  before  we  knew 
any  thing  about  it." 

"And  was  that  place  your  arbor  down 
there?"  and  Mr.  Lynton  pointed  in  the 
direction  it  had  been.  "  Was  it  burn- 
ing then,  or  did  it  catch  fire  after- 
wards?" 

"  Oh  no,  sir,  it  was  nearly  burnt  down 
before  I  woke  at  all." 

"Then  the  fire  must  have  originated 
there.     Have  you  been  in  the  habit  of 


PHILIP'S   DISCOVERY.  89 

keeping  matches  or  any  thing  combusti- 
ble down  there  lately,  Philip  ?" 

"No,  sir,  I  am  sure  I  never  did." 

"And  you  did  not  carry  a  lighted 
candle  there  last  night  ?  Harry  tells  me 
you  went  to  fetch  a  book  you  had  left 
there." 

"  No,  sir,  I  found  the  book  lying  on 
the  bench.  The  moon  was  so  bright  I 
did  not  need  the  lantern." 

Mr.  Lynton  was  silent  for  some  min- 
utes. "It's  my  impression,"  said  he  at 
length,  "from  all  I  can  gather,  that  it 
must  have  been  the  work  of  an  incendi- 
ary. It  is  a  sad  loss  to  your  poor  moth- 
er, Philip." 

Philip's  lip  quivered.  "That's  just 
what  I  've  been  thinking  about,  sir.  I  'm 
afraid  I  must  leave  off  going  to  school 
now,  and  see  if  I  can't  find  some  place  in 
a  store." 

"Ah,"  said  Mr.  Lynton  j  "and  were 


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90 


LYNTONVILLE. 


these  the  thoughts  that  made  you  look  so 
sad  when  I  first  met  you  ?" 

"  I  dare  say  they  did,  sir.  I  am  very 
sorry.  I  did  so  wish  to  work  hard  and 
get  on  in  my  lessons,  and  enter  some 
profession ;"  and  Philip's  voice  trembled, 
and  the  unbidden  tears  would  start  into 
his  eyes. 

Mr.  Lynton  looked  at  him  in  some 
surprise,  for  the  boy  had  never  before 
spoken  so  openly,  and  putting  his  hand 
kindly  upon  his  shoulder,  he  said,  **I  see 
this  fire  is  likely  to  be  the  cause  of  even 
a  greater  trial  to  you  than  I  at  first  an- 
ticipated, Philip ;  but  cheer  up,  my  boy ; 
you  know  God  helps  those  who  try  to 
help  themselves.  Besides,  you  must  not 
think  it  beneath  you  to  enter  a  store.  I 
can  quite  sympathize  with  your  feelings, 
for  you  have  not  been  long  enough  in 
the  country  to  understand  our  modes  of 
thought  J  but  I  can  assure  you  that  in  a 


PHILIP'S  DISCOVERY. 


91 


colony  like  this,  some  of  our  most  highly 
educated  and  esteemed  men  have  begun 
life  in  a  position  such  as  you  contemplate. 
But  you  have  not  had  time  yet  to  think 
over  your  plans;  and  in  the  meantime, 
Philip,  you  know  we  are  only  too  glad 
to  have  your  mother  and  you  at  Lynton- 
ville:  and  remember,  my  boy,  you  will 
never  want  a  friend  while  it  is  in  my 
power  to  help  you." 

**  I  thank  you,  sii,  you  are  very  kind ; 
indeed,  I  do  n't  know  L^  r  to  thank  you 
enough,"  said  Philip,  as  they  reached  the 
house. 

Harry  did  all  in  his  power  to  cheer 
his  friend.  *'  Do  you  know,  Philip,"  said 
he,  later  in  the  day,  when  they  were 
talking  it  all  over,  "I've  been  thinking 
this  morning  about  that  text,  '  Not  a 
sparrow  shall  fall  to  the  ground  without 
your  Father  in  heaven.'  If  God  looks 
after  the   sparrows  he  must  know  all 


!!!:! 


0^ 


92 


LYNTONVILLE. 


about  this,  how  it  happened  and  all, 
and  do  n't  you  think  he  11  take  care  of 
you?" 

**0L,  yes,"  said  Philip,  "that's  what 
mararaa  says,  and  I  do  n't  know  what  we 
should  do  if  we  did  not  believe  God's 
promises ;  but  it 's  very  hard  to  feel  right 
about  it,  and  to  think  that  it's  all  for- 
the  best.  Perhaps  some  day  we  shall 
know  why  it  happened  better  than  we  can 


ji 


now. 

Towards  evening  Philip  slipped  away 
quietly,  to  take  another  look  at  the  ruins. 
Again  and  again  he  went  over  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  fire  in  his  own  mind ; 
when  suddenly  he  remembered  Hardy's 
knife,  and  he  took  it  out  of  his  pocket. 
He  knew  it  well,  for  he  had  seen  it  many 
a  time  before,  but  now  it  acquired  a  new 
interest  in  his  sight.  How  came  it  in  the 
spot  where  he  had  found  it  in  the  morn- 
ing?   The  crowd  was  collected  in  front 


1 1 


PHILIP'S  DISCOVEEY. 


93 


of  the  cottage,  and  on  the  bank  of  the 
river ;  what  could  Hardy  have  been  about 
there  ?  It  was  open  too  when  he  picked 
it  up,  as  if  i.t  had  just  been  used ;  and 
Philip  examined  the  knife,  as  though  the 
inanimate  steel  could  give  him  some  clue 
to  the  truth.  His  thoughts  recurred  to 
Mr.  Lynton's  idea,  that  the  place  had 
been  set  on  fire  purposely.  Then  the 
events  of  the  day  before  flashed  across 
his  mind :  the  examination ;  the  prizes 
he  had  so  unexpectedly  won,  which  Har- 
dy had  looked  upon  as  his  own ;  the 
angry  scowl  too  upon  his  face,  as  he  met 
him  coming  from  the  school-house ;  above 
all,  the  difficulty  in  accounting  for  the 
fire.  It  could  not  have  been  accidental ; 
some  one  must  have  done  it;  and  who 
was  that  some  one  ? 

Philip  was  fast  working  himself  into  a 
state  of  painful  excitement.  Was  it  pos- 
sible?   Yes,  it  was,  it  must  have  been 


94 


LYNTONVILLE. 


Hardy.  He  began  to  see  it  all  now ;  this 
was  the  cruel,  cowardly  revenge  he  had 
planned,  and  as  Philip  became  more  and 
more  convinced  of  the  truth  of  his  sus- 
picions, his  angry  passions  rose  in  pro- 
portion. "  How  wicked,"  he  thought ;  ** I 
never  injured  him,  that  he  should  do  such 
a  cruel,  cowardly  thing.  I  've  borne  all 
his  taunts;  I  never  said  an  unkind  word 
to  him  in  my  life ;  and  this  is  what  comes 
of  it  all."  His  brain  seemed  on  fire,  as 
one  argument  after  another  to  prove 
Hardy's  guilt  arose  in  his  mind;  and  his 
eye  gleamed  with  a  strange  light  while  ^ 
he  pondered  the  facts  which  were  so  sus- 
picious. "  But  this  is  more  than  I  can 
bear.  I  '11  show  him  up  in  his  true  light; 
mean,  cowardly  bully  that  he  is.  If  it 
were  only  myself  it  would  be  different, 
but  he  has  ruined  my  mother^  and  I  hate 
him.  I  do,"  said  he  aloud,  stamping 
with  his  foot  upon  the  ground,  "and  I 


PHILIP'S   DISCOVERY.  95 

should  n't  care  if  he  were  hung  for  it." 
The  sound  of  his  own  voice  startled 
him. 

And  was  this  Philip,  the  meek  disciple 
of  a  meek  and  lowly  Master  ?  It  was  in- 
deed, and  for  a  while  it  seemed  as  though 
Satan  had  triumphed.  'All  his  evil  pas- 
sions were  in  league  against  him ;  anger, 
hatred,  revenge,  all  struggled  for  the 
mastery,  under  the  guise  of  righteous  in- 
dignation, and  a  just  desire  to  avenge  his 
mother's  wrongs.  But  God,  in  his  mercy, 
will  not  let  his  children  be  tempted  above 
that  they  are  able  to  bear ;  and  so  it  was 
with  Philip.  He  had  received  great  prov- 
ocation. His  mother,  his  loved  mother, 
had  been  injured  almost  beyond  repair, 
and  his  own  prospects  in  life  blighted; 
and  for  what  ?  Simply  to  gratify  the  bad 
passions  of  a  boy  whom  he  had  never 
wronged.  It  was  a  severe  trial,  and  we 
must  not  think  the  worse  of  him  because 


96 


LYNTONVILLE. 


ill!' 


i  t 


i 


the  old  self  which  remained  in  his  heart 
fought  a  hard  battle  with  the  new  self 
implanted  by  God's  grace,  and  nearly 
gained  the  victory ;  but  in  the  hour  of  his 
weakness  he  received  strength  from  above 
to  resist  the  strong  temptation.  The 
sound  of  his  own  voice 'brought  him  to 
himself,  and  above  the  angry  tumult 
within  his  breast  he  seemed  to  hear  a 
still  small  voice,  whispering,  **But  I  say 
unto  you,  Love  your  enemies,  do  good 
to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for 
them  that  despite  fully  use  you,  and  per- 
secute you." 

Hitherto  he  had  been  walking  rapidly 
on,  not  caring  where  he  went;  now  he 
stopped,  and  sitting  down  on  an  old 
stump  by  the  side  of  the  path,  he  took 
out  a  little  pocket  Testament,  and  turned 
to  iiic  y/ords.  The  gleam  faded  from  his 
eye,  and  the  angry  look  from  his  face,  as 
the  holy  words  carried  conviction  to  his 


PHILIP'S    DISCOVERY. 


97 


conscience.  ** Oh,"  he  said,  "how  wick- 
ed I  have  been.  I  have  blamed  him  for 
the  very  thing  I  was  going  to  do  myself. 
May  God  forgive  me."  A  tear  stole 
down  his  cheek,  a  tear  of  repentance  for 
his  sin,  and  he  knelt  down  in  the  shade 
of  the  forest-trees  to  pray  for  pardon,  and 
wisdom  to  direct.  It  was  no  easy  decis- 
ion he  had  to  make.  Ought  he  to  con- 
ceal what  he  suspected,  or  was  it  his  duty 
to  make  it  known? 

Yery  earnestly  he  besought  his  heav- 
enly Father  to  guide  him  in  the  right 
way,  and  he  turned  over  the  pages  of 
his  little  Testament  to  see  if  he  could  find 
any  message  from  God's  word  to  help 
him  in  his  difficulty.  Presently  his  eye 
rested  on  this  verse  in  one  of  his  favorite 
chapters:  "Dearly  beloved,  avenge  not 
yourselves,  but  rather  give  place  unto 
wrath :  for  it  is  written,  Yengeance  is 
mine ;    I   will   repay,    saith   the   Lord. 


I.rntonTtlla. 


rmr 


98 


LYNTONVILLE. 


!l  i 


Therefore  if  thine  enemy  hunger,  feed 
him ;  if  he  thirst,  give  him  drink ;  for 
in  so  doing  thou  shalt  heap  coals  of  fire 
on  his  head.'^  Rom.  12:19,  20.  He 
thought  a  while,  and  then  he  decided  to 
keep  what  he  knew  to  himself.  *'I 
will  never  mention  it :  God  helping 
me,  I  will  keep  it  a  secret  all  my  life." 
A  hollow  place  in  a  tree  close  at  hand 
caught  hig  eye.  "I  will  put  the  knife 
in  there,  and  if  it  should  ever  be  found 
no  one  will  know  how  it  came  there." 
He  had  to  climb  up  to  reach  it,  and 
the  knife  dropped  down  into  the  cavity. 
Then  he  turned  to  go  home,  and  as  he 
went  he  remembered  Hardy's  pale, 
frightened  face,  and  how  he  had  injured 
himself  in  saving  the  books.  '*  He  never 
could  have  meant  to  set  the  cottage  on 
fire,"  thought  Philip;  ''most  likely  the 
sparks  were  blown  upon  the  shingles,  for 
the  wind  set  that  way,  and  then  the  roof 


PHILIP'S  DISCOVERY. 


99 


caught.  I  dare  say  he  was  afraid  of  being 
found  out,  and  he  must  have  been  sorry 
too,  or  he  would  not  have  risked  get- 
ting burnt  to  save  any  thing.  Poor 
fellow ;  1 11  go  and  ask  how  his  hand 
is  by  and  by.  Shall  I  tell  him  I  sus- 
pect him?  No,  I  think  not;  it  will  be 
kinder  never  to  let  him  know.  Oh 
Lord,  help  me  to  keep  my  resolution," 
he  inwardly  prayed,  "and  enable  me  to 
serve  thee  aright,  now  and  always." 

In  this  softened  frame,  Philip  returned 
to  Lyntonville.  It  was  as  though  a  ter- 
rible storm  had  passed  over  his  soul — 
the  wind  and  the  waves  boisterous  and 
contrary,  and  tossing  the  frail  bark  of 
his  spiritual  life  to  and  fro,  in  their  angry 
tumult ;  but  the  Saviour's  voice  had  spo- 
ken above  the  tempest,  saying,  **  Peace, 
be  still;"  and  immediately  there  wag  a 
calm.  Oh,  well  is  it  for  us  all  if  we  have 
taken  that  gentle  Saviour  as  our  guide 


100 


LYNTONVILLE. 


and  helper,  that  we  may  be  enabled  "so 
to  pass  the  waves  of  this  troublesome 
world,  that  finally  we  may  come  to  the 
land  of  everlasting  life,"  in  the  world  to 
come. 


>  i 


THE  DAY  AFTEB  THE  FIAE. 


101 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  DAY  AFTER  THE  FIBE. 

"Conscience  does  make  cowards  of  ns  all." 

We  must  now  return  to  Hardy,  whom 
we  last  saw  going  home  with  his  father 
after  the  fire.  As  so6n  as  he  reached 
the  house,  his  hand  was  properly  bound 
up ;  his  father  at  the  same  time  rating 
him  soundly  for  what  he  called  his  stupid- 
ity in  getting  burnt. 

"•Take  care  of  number  one ;  that 's  my 
maxim,  lad,  and  you  ^11  find  it  a  safe  one, 
I  can  tell  you.  But  now  you  ^d  better 
turn  in,  for  I  should  say  you  *d  had 
enough  of  it  for  one  night.  Stay,  you  ^re 
cold.  Come  into  the  store,  and  I  '11  give 
you  something  to  set  you  all  to  rights ;" 
and  he  poured  out  some  whisky,  and 
made  Tom  drink  it.    It  was  not  the  first 


11  ll 


II  I! 


i02  LYNTONVILLE. 

time  the  boy  had  taken  spirits,  but  in  his 
present  excited  state  it  affected  him 
greatly.  He  went  up  and  threw  himself 
on  his  bed,  and  immediately  fell  into  a 
heavy  sleep.  It  was  still  early  when  he 
woke ;  and  he  roused  himself  ^ith  a  dull 
sense  of  something  on  his  mind,  but  what, 
he  could  not  remember  for  some  minutes. 
Slowly  it  all  came  back  to  his  memory, 
and  the  pain  of  his  burnt  hand  was  only 
too  sure  a  reminder  of  the  part  he  had 
played  in  the  scenes  of  the  night.  He  got 
up  and  looked  at  himself  in  the  little 
glass  which  hung  against  the  wall.  He 
thought  his  very  face  would  betray  him, 
he  looked  so  pale  and  haggard ;  but  peo- 
ple would  imagine  it  was  the  pain  of  the 
burn;  they  could  never  suspect  him  of 
having  any  share  in  it,  unless — and  the 
mere  possibility  was  terrible  to  him — 
unless  he  had  been  observed  going  in  that 
direction  so  shortly  before  the  alarm. 


THE   DAY  AFTEE  THE   FIRE.        103 

He  went  down  stairs  and  wandered  into 
the  kitchen,  where  the  boy  was  light- 
ing the  stove  before  opening  the  shutters 
in  the  store.  He  tried  to  whistle  un- 
concernedly as  Jack  made  some  common 
remark  about  the  fire,  and  went  into  the 
shop. 

The  early  morning  sunlight  streamed 
in  through  the  round  holes  in  the  shut- 
ters, which  he  attempted  to  take  down 
in  the  caprice  of  the  moment,  and  leaving 
them  half-opened,  went  off  to  the  wood- 
shed. Here  he  began  to  cut  through  a 
log  of  wood  which  had  been  left  upon 
the  saw-horse;  and  then  he  felt  in  his 
pocket  for  his  knife.  It  was  gone.  He 
rushed  up  to  his  room  and  sought  for  it 
in  every  hole  and  corner;  it  was  not 
there.  And  then  he  remembered  hav- 
ing cut  the  string  which  bound  the  little 
bundle  of  tarred  sticks  with  it  the  night 
before.     He  must  have  left  it  in  his 


104 


LYNTONVILLE. 


hurry  close  to  the  spot,  and  his  name 
cut  in  large  letters  on  the  handle  would 
be  a  witness  against  him.  "Fool  that  I 
have  been,"  he  muttered;  **if  1  had  only 
thought  what  it  would  come  to,  I  would 
have  seen  myself  far  enough  before  I 
stiiTcd  one  step  to  do  it.  But  there's 
no  one  about  so  early  as  this ;  I  may  find 
it  yet ;"  and  he  ran  off  full  speed  to  look 
for  the  missing  knife.  He  paused  at  the 
ditch  where  he  had  fallen  in  his  blind 
haste  before,  and  searched  all  about,  but 
no  knife  was  there;  and  he  walked  on 
as  fast  as  he  could  to  the  place  where 
the  cottage  had  been.        n  .        .    r 

Mr.  Lynton  and  Philip  had  but  just 
left  the  spot  when  Hardy  came  up,  and 
he  saw  their  retreating  figures  crossing 
the  bridge.  Carefully  he  looked  about 
in  every  direction;  but,  as  our  readers 
are  already  aware,  without  a  chance  of 
success,  for  it  was  at  that  moment  safe 


THE  DAY  AFTER  THE  FIRE. 


105 


in  Philip's  pocket.  After  a  long  and 
fruitless  search,  he  gave  it  up  as  hfie- 
lessly  lost.  One  comfort  was,  H  was  no- 
where near  the  arbor,  so  that  even  if 
found  it  could  not  rouse  suspicion,  and 
his  heart  was  lightened  of  half  its  load. 
His  chief  anxiety  was  lest  he  should  be 
found  out ;  yet  as  he  stood  looking  at  the 
smouldering  ruins,  his  conscience  smote 
him  sorely.  "I  wish  I'd  never  thought 
of  doing  it ;  such  a  pretty  little  place  too. 
I  never  dreamed  the  fire  would  spread  like 
that ;  and  I  do  n't  believe  any  thing  was 
saved."  No,  Tom  Hardy,  it  is  easier  to 
do  wrong  than  to  set  it  right  after  it  is 
done ;  and  that  you  have  found  to  your 
cost.  "Well,"  he  thought  at  last,  *'I 
can't  help  it  now,  and  I  sha'n't  care  much 
if  I  can  only  keep  it  quiet."  Poor  boy, 
he  forgot  that  there  was  One  above  who 
knew  all,  and  from  whom  no  secrets  are 
hid.    He  had  never  been  taught  in  his 


196 


LYNTONVILLE. 


childhood  of  the  **Eye  that  never  sleeps," 
resting  always  upon  each  one  of  us ;  and 
now  all  he  cared  for  was  to  escape  the 
anger  of  his  fellow-creatures  and  the  just 
punishment  of  his  fault. 

As  he  reached  his  father's  door,  he 
overheard  several  men  talking  about  the 
fire,  and  stopped  to  listen. 

"I  say.  Smith,  were  you  up  at  the  fire 
last  night  ?"  said  one. 

"  Not  I ;  I  heard  nothing  of  it  till  this 
morning.  They  do  say  as  how  it  must 
ha'  been  a  'cendiary,  and  if  so  be  it  is, 
they  '11  put  up  a  reward  for  certain." 

"You  don't  say  so!"  said  the  other; 
"well,  I  was  thinking  myself  it  were 
mighty  strange  how  it  corned  about." 

"Biddy,  that's  Mrs.  Quin's  sarvant, 
told  me  this  morning  that  not  a  bit  of  a 
fire  had  been  in  the  stove  since  ten  o'clock 
o'  the  mornin'  yesterday,  for  the  mis- 
thress  had  been  up  to  Lyntonville  all  the 


THE  DAT  AFTER  THE  FIRE. 


107 


day,"  said  an  Irish  lad,  who  was*  errand- 
boy  and  newsmonger  in  general  to  the 
village. 

**Aye,  then  I  shouldn't  wonder  if 
there  might  be  some  truth  in  it.  I  guess 
Mr.  Lynton  wont  let  him  off  very  easy, 
whoever  he  is." 

"Aisy  is  it?"  said  Terence;  "shure 
I  'd  flay  him  alive,  if  he  was  the  praste 
himself,  for  layin'  a  finger  on  the  lot  of 
the  widow  and  the  orphan — bad  luck  to 
him,  whoever  he  was." 

Tom  Hardy  shook  from  head  to  foot. 
Then  it  was  suspected.  And  if  his  knife 
were  to  be  found  after  all  about  the 
place,  it  would  prove  him  guilty;  and 
then  what  would  become  of  him  ?  All 
day  long  the  boy  was  tormented  by  these 
fears,  and  every  fresh  comment  upon  the 
fire  only  added  to  his  misery.  His  time 
hung  heavily  on  his  hands,  for  the  school 
was  closed,  and  he  hardly  dared  to  join 


108 


LYNTONVILLE. 


any  of  bis  companions,  lest  some  tell-tale 
look  or  unguarded  word  might  betray 
him.  But  the  days  wore  on;  no  clue 
had  been  found,  and  he  began  to  be  more 
easy  in  his  mind.  Little  did  he  imagine 
that  one  person  suspected  his  share  in 
the  transaction,  and  that  person  the  very 
one  he  had  so  deeply  injured.    - 

Philip  took  the  first  opportunity  of 
inquiring  for  Hardy's  hand,  and  of  thank- 
ing him  once  more  for  having  rescued  the 
books.  He  did  it  sincerely  and  warmly, 
feeling  that  he  had  now  quite  forgiven 
him  from  his  heart  for  the  mischief  he 
had  caused.  Hardy  had  only  meant  to 
injure  him,  and  for  this  Philip  no  longer 
harbored  any  angry  feelings;  the  rest 
had  been  in  God's  hands.  Those  few 
kind  words  from  Philip  went  straight 
to  Hardy's  conscience,  and  he  winced 
under  them  as  though  each  had.  been  a 
lash. 


THE  DAY  AFTEE  THE  FIEE. 


105) 


**  Do  you  know,  Hardy,  I  am  afraid  I 
sha^n't  be  able  to  come  to  school  any 
more  ?" 

"  Not  come  back  to  school ;  why  not?" 
said  he  in  astonishment. 

"  Why,  I  must  try  and  do  something 
to  help  my  mother  now.  I  wouldn't 
have  said  any  thing  about  it,  only  I 
heard  that  your  father  wanted  a  clerk, 
and  perhaps  he  might  take  me."  Mr. 
Hardy  had  the  largest  and  most  impor- 
tant store  in  the  place,  and  there  was  no 
other  where  Philip  could  find  employ- 
ment. 

"Take  you  into  the  store,  Quin ;  do 
you  really  mean  it  ?  I  thought  you  were 
too  proud,  a  long  way,  to  do  any  thing 
of  the  kind."  Hardy  did  not  now  speak 
bitterly,  but  in  unfeigned  surprise. 

'*  Yes,"  said  Philip,  "I  have  been  very 
foolish,.!  know;  but  one  grows  wiser  as 
one  grows  older,  and  I  do  n't  know  what 


110 


LYNTONVILLE. 


else  I  can  do.  Do  you  think  your  father 
would  have  me  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Hardy,  "he 
wants  a  man." 

"Perhaps  Mr.  Lynton  would  speak 
for  me,"  said  Philip  thoughtfully;  "I 
think  I  '11  ask  him  j"  and  soon  after  the 
boys  parted. 

So  Philip  wished  to  come  into  the 
store.  Hardy  was  far  from  echoing  the 
wish;  he  did  not  want  to  have  a  con- 
stant reminder  of  his  folly  before  his 
eyes,  but  he  said  nothing ;  and  the  next 
day  Mr.  Lynton  and  Philip  made  their 
appearance. 

"I  believe,  Hardy,  you  are  in  want  of 
jf  clerk.  Perhaps  you  would  be  good 
enough  to  try  my  young  friend  here,  and 
see  whether  you  can  make  any  thing  of 
him  as  a  man  of  business." 

Philip  felt  his  cheeks  burning ;  it  was 
a  hard  trial  for  him,  and  one  from  which 


ither 
"he 


I      \i 


peak 

;  "I 

p  the 


the 
J  the 
con- 
!  his 
next 
their 

at  of 

^ood 

and 

ig  of 

was 
hich 


Is.rjJi! 


.Ir 


THE  DAY  AFTER  THE  FIRE.         Ill 

Mr.  Lynton  would  willingly  have  shield- 
ed him,  could  he  have  found  any  thing 
raore  suitable  at  the  time. 

Mr.  Hardy  rubbed  his  hands,  and 
scanned  Philip  with  his  cold,  harsh  eyes. 
"He's  very  young,  sir,  very  young.  I 
guess  he  wont  be  worth  his  salt  for  a 
long  time  to  come.  Can  you  write  a 
goodish  hand,  youngster?  let  us  see;" 
and  he  pushed  the  ink  towards  him. 
Philip's  hand  shook  so  that  he  could 
hardly  hold  the  pen,  but  he  managed  to 
write  a  few  words  in  a  bold  hand. 

"Ah,  come,  that's  pretty  well  for  a 
beginning,"  said  he.  "It's  Mrs.  Quin's 
son,  I  believe;  is  it  not?  A  sad  thing 
that  fire,  very.  And  you  want  to  do 
something  for  yourself,  eh?  Well,  sir, 
under  the  circumstances,  and  since  it's 
to  oblige  you,  I  '11  consent  to  try  him ; 
but  he 's  young,  sir,  far  too  young.  How- 
ever, I  'm  glad  to  do  a  charitable  action 


112 


LYNTONVILLE. 


at  all  times."  Philip^s  blood  boiled. 
Did  the  man  think  he  was  doing  him  a 
charity,  when  a  word  from  him  would 
ruin  his  son  for  life  ?  Hasty  words  were 
rushing  to  his  lips,  when  he  suddenly 
checked  himself,  and  inwardly  prayed 
for  strength  to  be  enabled  to  keep  his 
resolution. 

Poor  Philip,  it  was  no  easy  task  he 
had  in  prospect ;  but  he  thought  of  the 
promise,  "As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy 
strength  be,"  and  he  was  helped.  It  was 
settled  that  the  next  Monday  should  see 
him  take  his  place  behind  the  counter  for 
the  first  time,  at  a  salary  of  four  dollars 
a  week;  and  with  a  heavy  heart  he 
walked  back  to  Lyntonville. 

"It  will  be  a  trial  to  you,  Philip," 
said  Mr.  Lynton,*  "especially  at  first; 
but  strive  to  do  your  duty  in  your  new 
position,  and  you  will  find  that  God  will 
bless  you  in  it.    The  discipline  may  seem 


THE  DAY  AFTER  THE  FIRE. 


113 


hard  just  now,  but  believe  me,  in  after- 
life you  will  never  regret  it;  and  just  let 
me  give  you  one  word  of  advice :  do  n't 
add  to  your  mother's  sorrow  by  telling 
her  what  a  sacrifice  you  are  making  for 
her  sake.  No  doubt  she  feels  it  enough 
already." 

Philip  remembered  Mr.  Lynton's  cau- 
tion, and  when  he  told  his  mother  of  the 
arrangement  that  had  been  made,  he  did 
it  as  cheerfully  as  he  could. 

"It  will  be  plieasant  to  feel  that  I  am 
beginning  to  help  you,  dear  mother." 

**  Well,  my  son,"  she  replied,  stroking 
back  the  hair  from  his  forehead  with  her 
gentle,  caressing  hand,  "it  is  not  what  I 
could  have  wished  for  you,  but  our  heav- 
enly Father  knows  best,  we  may  be  per- 
fectly satisfied  of  that ;  and  he  is  able  to 
bring  good  out  of  what  seems  to  us  only 
evil." 


LyBtOBTlIIe. 


8 


lU 


LYNTONVILLE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

.      .       ME.  HAEDY'S  STORE. 

'•Tetichme,  my  GodandKing,  .  ; 

In  all  things  thee  to  see ; 
And  what  I  do  in  any  thing, 
To  do  it  as  for  thee.  , 

All  may  of  thee  partake ;  »      , 

Nothing  can  be  so  mean 
That  with  this  tincture,  'For  thy  sake,'      '  • 

Will  not  grow  bright  and  clean."  ' 

Monday  came,  and  Philip  went  to  his 
post.  He  felt  strangely  awkward  as  he 
was  told  to  assist  in  unpacking  and  mark- 
ing a  large  case  of  new  goods  just  ar- 
rived from  Toronto.  Hardy  employed 
two  clerks;  and  Bennett,  whose  place 
Philip  was  to  take,  still  remained  for  a 
few  days  to  put  his  successor  into  the 
ways  of  the  business.  Joe  Gammon,  the 
other,  was  a  youth  about  eighteen  years 
of  age,  good-looking  and  sharp,  and  un- 


#^ 


MR.  HARDY'S  STORE. 


115 


scrupulous  enough  in  his  dealings  to 
please  his  like-minded  master.  "Joe's 
a  lad  of  the  right  sort,"  Hardy  used  to 
say ;  "no  fear  but  he  '11  make  his  way  in 
the  world."  Bennett  was  an  older  man, 
and  would  have  been  a  far  safer  compan- 
ion for  Philip  than  Joe ;  but  he  had  saved 
money,  and  was  now  about  to  better  him- 
self by  taking  a  share  in  a  small  business 
in  a  rising  village  a  few  miles  off. 

"  You  've  got  hold  of  a  raw  hand  there, 
Bennett,"  said  Joe,  laughing.  "Never 
left  his  mother's  apron-strings  before, 
pretty  dear." 

"  You  '11  teach  him  a  thing  or  two  be- 
fore you've  done  with  him,  I  expect, 
Master  Joe,"  replied  Bennett.  "I  tell 
you  what,  youngster,"  added  he  in  a  low 
tone  to  Philip,  as  Joe  walked  off  to  the 
other  end  of  the  store  to  attend  to  a  cus- 
tomer, "you'd  better  look  to  yourself 
here.    I'm  no  baint  myself,  but  of  all 


116 


LYNTONVILLE. 


the  precious  young  scamps  I  ever  came 
across,  that  chap  *s  the  worst." 
'  There  was  a  rough  kindliness  of  man- 
ner  about  Bennett  for  which  Philip  felt 
gratefiil,  and  he  was  really  sorry  when 
he  left  the  place  at  the  end  of  the  week. 
During  that  time  he  had  set  to  work  with  ^ 
a  will  to  learn  as  much  as  he  could  of  his 
new  duties,  and  by  degrees  he  became 
more  expert,  and  lost  his  awkward  ways. 
It  was  still  early  tn  the  summer,  and 
Philip  used  to  sigh  somv.^ times  as  he 
thought  of  the  green  shady  woods,  and 
the  cool  splash  of  the  river  by  their  little 
cottage.  It  was  hot  and  close  in  the 
store,  and  the  mingled  odors  of  soap  and 
cheese  and  candles  and  butter  were  often 
so  overpowering  that  he  was  obliged  to 
go  to  the  door  for  a  breath  of  the  pure 
fresh  air,  while  he  leaned  his  aching  head 
against  the  side-post.  His  work  was  very 
hard,  and  its  irksomeness  made  it  still 


MR.  HARDY'S  STORE. 


117 


more  so;  but  he  uttered  no  complaint, 
and  even  Mr.  Hardy's  sharp  eye  could 
detect  but  few  faults.  But  he  had  greater 
trials  than  these.  What  he  felt  most  was, 
being  obliged  to  work  for  and  with  such 
unprincipled  men  as  gradually  he  found 
out  Mr.  Hardy  and  Joe  to  be.  At  first 
he  suspected  nothing,  for  he  was  so  con- 
scientious himself,  that  it  never  once  en- 
tered his  head  that  they  could  wilfully 
deceive  and  cheat;  but  little  by  little  his 
eyes  were  opened,  and  his  whole  soul  re- 
volted from  such  wrong  dealings.  Yery 
soon  Hardy's  customers  began  to  like 
Philip  to  serve  them,  for  they  found  that 
he  gave  good  measure,  and  would  recom- 
mend none  but  the  best  articles,  while 
he  was  always  obliging  and  courteous. 

One  day  an  old  woman  drove  up  to 
the  door  in  one  of  the  country  wagons, 
and  alighting,  popped  her  head  into  the 
shop.     Philip  was  busy  measuring  off 


118 


LYNTONVILI.E. 


some  print  for  another  customer.  See- 
ing him  engaged,  she  went  ofif,  though 
Joe  was  standing  idle ;  but  after  a  while 
returned  again  to  find  Philip  still  occu- 
pied. This  time  she  came  in,  but  nothing 
would  induce  her  to  mention  her  wants 
until  she  could  secure  Philip's  services. 

"  What  can  I  show  you  to-day,  Mrs. 
McGregor  ?"  said  Joe,  all  smiles. 

''It's  a  fine  day  for  the  mowing,"  re- 
plied she ;  "  I  thought  we  should  ha'  had 
rain  last  night." 

"  So  did  I,"  said  Joe.  "  Is  it  groceries 
you  want  to-day?  we  have  a  prime  lot  of 
goods  on  hand  just  now,  which  we  are 
selling  cheap." 

"What's  that  stuff-piece  you  have 
over  there?"  said  the  old  lady,  keeping 
one  eye  on  Philip. 

"Ah,  the  blue  on  a  green  ground. 
Sweet  thing,"  said  Joe,  taking  it  down. 
**  We  have  just  received  it,  with  a  large 


MR.  HARDY'S   STORE. 


119 


assortment  of  goods,  by  the  last  steamer 
from  the  old  country" — it  had  been  in 
the  store  a  year  and  a  half — "  ten  yards 
to  a  dress.  It  will  suit  you  exactly, 
Mrs.  McGregor;  let  me  cut  off  a  dress- 
length  for  you.  Coine,  I  '11  let  you  have 
it  for  six  dollars;  and  that's  less  than 
cost  price." 

"  No,"  she  said,  feeling  the  texture,  "I 
do  n't  think  I  '11  take  it  to  -  day ;"  and 
looking  about  for  something  else  to  re- 
mark upon,  she  espied  a  little  machine 
at  the  other  end  of  the  counter. 

"And  what  may  this  be,  Mr.  Joe?" 
"Well,  ma'am,"  said  Joe,  "that  is  the 
most  extraordinary  little  article  that's 
been  invented  this  long  time;  but  wont 
you  allow  me  to  measure  you  off  this 
piece?  You  can't  do  better,  I  assure 
you."  Then  seeing  Mrs.  McGregor's 
attention  wholly  diverted,  "It's  an  ap- 
ple-parer,  ma'am,  and  will  do  the  work 


120 


LYNTONVILLE. 


of  six  pair  of  hands  in  no  time  at  all ;  and 
all  for  the  small  sum  of  a  quarter  dollar." 

•'Law,  yoii  don't  say  so,"  said  she 
with  pretended  interest;  "you  couldn't 
show  me  how  it  works  now,  could  you?" 

"  Oh,  certainly,  mk'am,  with  the  great- 
est pleasure,"  and  he  went  to  get  an  ap- 
ple for  the  purpose.  The  paring  process 
was  only  half  over  when  Mrs.  McGregor, 
to  her  great  relief,  saw  Philip  opening 
the  door  for  the  other  customer,  who 
had  completed  her  purchases,  and  sud* 
denly  leaving  Joe  and  his  machine,  she 
walked  across  to  the  opposite  counter, 
saying  to  Philip,  "I'll  tell  you  what  I 
want,  Mr.  Quin,  for  I  believe  you  wont 
cheat  me ;  but  as  to  that  young  chap  yon- 
der, he  shall  play  off  none  of  his  tricks 
upon  me."  Joe  did  not  like  to  be  out- 
shone thus  by  the  new-comer,  and  found 
ways  and  means  of  venting  his  spite  upon 
Philip,  who  on  the  whole  led  no  easy  life. 


ME.  HARDY'S   STORE. 


121 


Mrs.  Quin  had  taken  lodgings  in  the 
village,  in  order  to  be  near  her  son,  and 
Philip  went  home  to  her  every  evening 
after  the  store  was  closed.  But  the  close 
confinement  soon  began  to  affect  his  del- 
icate frame,  and  he  often  longed  to  be  at 
his  beloved  books,  when  he  was  occupied 
all  day  long  in  weighing  out  pounds  of 
sugar  and  measuring  yards  of  factory 
cottons  for  the  poor  settlers  of  the  dis- 
trict. His  mother  watched  his  pale  face 
grow  thinner,  and  his  step  less  light  ev- 
ery day,  with  sad  forebodings.  She 
would  have  given  all  she  had  to  be  able 
to  take  him  away  from  his  distasteful 
occupation,  but  his  weekly  earnings  con- 
tributed materially  to  their  support,  and 
what  could  they  do  without  them  ?  No 
repining  word  ever  passed  his  lips,  and 
even  his  fond  mother  never  guessed  how 
much  he  suffered. 

In  the  mean  time  things  went  on  much 


122 


LYNTONVILLE. 


as  usual  at  the  Long  Cross  school,  though 
Hardy  now  found  a  new  and  scarcely  less 
formidable  rival  in  Harry  Lynton.  In 
one  thing  however  Tom  was  changed,  for 
he  never  went  into  the  store  if  he  could 
help  it,  and  avoided  Philip  as  much  as 
possible ;  but  all  sorrowful  recollections  of 
the  injury  his  conduct  had  caused  seemed 
to  have  faded  from  his  memory. 

Harry  never  ceased  to  miss  his  friend. 
**  I  declare,"  said  he  one  day,  *'I  never 
see  you  now,  Phil ;  but  I  suppose  it  can't 
be  helped.  I  do  n't  know  how  I  get  on 
without  you  though,  for  you  always  con- 
trived to  keep  me  straight." 

"  You  can't  be  more  sorry  than  I  am, 
Harry,"  replied  Philip  sadly;  "it  seems 
as  if  all  my  happy  days  were  over.'  Only 
I  believe  it 's  my  duty,  and  that  makes 
me  more  reconciled  to  it."  Scarcely  a 
day  passed  without  Harry  making  some 
little  errand  to  the  store,  that  he  might 


MR.  HAEDY'S  STOBE. 


123 


have  an  opportunity  of  chatting  with 
Philip;  and  these  short  visits  and  the 
evening  hour  with  his  mother  were  the 
only  pleasures  he  had  to  relieve  the  mo- 
notonous labor  of  his  life.  And  so  week 
after  week  passed  on ;  but  Philip  remem- 
bered he  was  helping  his  mother,  and 
this  was  his  greatest  comfort.  He  scarce- 
ly knew  himself  how  weak  and  ill  he 
was,  and  toiled  on,  thankful  for  the  em- 
ployment which  helped  to  keep  the  wolf 
from  the  door.  Yery  often  they  had 
to  deny  themselves  necessaries;  and  it 
would  have  melted  the  hardest  heart  to 
have  been  an  unseen  witness  of  their 
daily  meal.  "Mother,"  Philip  would 
say  sometimes,  "  I  'm  not  hungry  to-day ; 
I  can't  eat  any  dinner;"  and  all  Mrs. 
Quin's  persuasions  would  only  induce 
him  to  taste  the  scanty  fare.  Again,  if 
he  happened  to  be  later  than  usual,  she 
would  keep  the  lion's  share  for  her  boy, 


J24 


LYNTONVILLE. 


while  perhaps  little  food  had  passed  her 
own  lips  that  day.  None  knew  how  hard 
a  battle  they  had  to  fight  with  poverty ; 
and  Philip  tried  his  utmost  to  earn  a 
higher  salary.  Mr.  Hardy  knew  full 
well  he  was  worth  it ;  but  while  he  could 
secure  his  services  for  four  dollars  a 
week,  why  should  he  think  of  raising  it? 
And  the  poor  boy,  in  his  inexperience 
trusting  to  his  master's  honor,  toiled 
harder  than  ever  to  win  his  approba- 
tion. ... 

September  was  now  drawing  towards 
its  close,  and  the  bright  autumn  tints 
told  a  tale  of  coming  winter,  when  Mr. 
Lynton  having  made  arrangements  for 
his  usual  hunting  expedition,  determined 
this  year  to  take  Harry  with  him,  so 
pleased  was  he  with  his  industry  and  the 
progress  he  had  made  at  school.  Harry, 
nearly  wild  with  delight,  rushed  into  the 
store  as  soon  as  he  possibly  could,  to  tell 


MK.  HABDY'S  STOBE. 


126 


Philip  i\e  good  news.  Poor  Philip's  face 
fell. 

"  Going  away  for  a  month.  Oh,  Har- 
ry, what  shall  I  do  without  seeing  you 
sometimes  ?   I  shall  miss  you  so  much." 

"  Never  mind,  old  fellow,"  said  Harry, 
"  a  month  will  soon  pass,  and  then  I 
shall  be  able  to  tell  you  all  about  it,  you 
know.  But  I  say,  is  n't  it  jolly,  though?" 
Philip  did  not  look  as  if  he  thought  it 
very  jolly,  but  he  tried  to  sympathize 
in  his  friend's  pleasure.  "There  goes 
the  bell ;  I  came  in  early  on  purpose  to 
tell  you,  Phil,  but  I  must  be  off  now." 

In  the  course  of  the  day  it  chanced 
that  Tom  was  sent  into  the  store  by  his 
father,  as  an  extra  hand  was  required, 
and  for  the  first  time  for  several  weeks 
he  noticed  Philip,  who  was  looking  more 
than  usually  pale  and  weak.  **Why, 
Quin,"  said  he,  ''how  bad  you  look; 
what 's  the  matter  ?" 


If 


126 


LYNTONVILLE. 


"  I  do  n't  know,"  replied  he ;  "  I  'm  all 
right,  thank  you." 

"But  you  don't  look  all  right,  I  can 
tell  you.  Why  don't  you  take  some- 
thing ?  I  believe  you  ought  to  have  port 
wine,  you  have  n't  got  a  bit  of  color  in 
your  face.     Why  do  n't  you  ?" 

Philip  smiled  a  melancholy  smile  as 
he  thought  of  their  narrow  means.  "  We 
can't  afford  it,"  he  said  quietly.  Hardy 
turned  away  quickly  and  asked  no  more 
questions.  "  I  believe  he 's  going  to  die," 
thought  he;  "this  hard  work  is  killing 
him ;  he  's  not  used  to  it."  More  slowly 
the  idea  forced  itself  iato  Hardy's  mind 
that  this  was  his  own  work,  and  the  idea 
once  there,  he  could  not  get  rid  of  it ;  it 
followed  him  wherever  he  went,  and  once 
he  woke  with  a  start  in  the  night  dream- 
ing that  he  was  being  dragged  ofif  to  pris- 
on, accused  of  Philip's  murder. 

Harry  had  been  gone  very  nearly  a 


MR.  HARDY'S  STORE. 


127 


month,  and  Philip  rejoiced  much  at  the 
prospect  of  welcoming  him  back  again 
so  soon.  October  was  passing  quickly 
away,  the  trees  were  already  leafless  and 
bare,  and  sharp  frosts  had  set  in,  which 
made  poor  Philip  shiver  and  cough.  He 
himself  began  to  think  that  he  should  not 
be  able  to  go  on  much  longer,  for  some- 
times he  became  so  dizzy  he  was  obliged 
to  sit  down  by  the  roadside,  cold  as  it 
was,  on  his  way  to  the  store  in  the  morn- 
ing; and  he  felt  he  could  not  lift  the 
same  heavy  weights  he  did  formerly. 
One  day  when  he  went  as  usual  to  the 
post-office  for  the.  letters  he  found  one 
addressed  to  himself,  and  greatly  to  his 
surprise,  on  opening  it,  he  saw  that  it 
contained  nothing  but  a  ten  dollar  note. 
His  heart  was  full  of  wonder  and  thank- 
fulness as  he  thought  of  the  many  little 
comforts  this  sum  would  procure  for  his 
mother,  and  all  day  he  tried  to  think  who 


<ii. 


128 


LYNTONVILLE. 


the  kind  donor  could  be.  His  mother 
had  not  seen  him  look  so  joyful  for  weeks 
as  when  he  threw  the  letter  into  her  lap 
and  made  her  guess  what  was  in  it. 

"But  who  can  have  sent  this  money  to 
us,  Philip?  I  am  afraid  to  use  it  without 
knowing." 

**  Why,  mother,  surely  some  one  who 
wishes  to  be  kind  to  us.  Oh  do  spend 
it,"  he  cried,  looking  quite  disappoint- 
ed. "It  must  be  meant  for  us  ;  for,  see, 
it  is  directed  to  me  quite  plainly." 

Mrs.  Quin  looked  troubled  as  she 
examined  the  envelope.  "I  think,  my 
boy,"  she  said  at  length,  "  we  had  bet- 
ter not  touch  this  note  at  present  un- 
less we  are  driven  to  it.  My  heart  mis- 
gives me,  lest  there  should  be  any  thing 
wrong."  ,  ^    . 

Philip's  bright  look  had  quite  vanish- 
ed now,  but  he  never  questioned  for  a 
moment  his  mother^s  wishes.     "Well, 


MR.  HARDY'S  STORE. 


129 


mother,  I  suppose  you  know  best,"  he 
said,  "but  I  am  very  sorry." 

Mrs.  Quin  locked  up  the  letter,  just  as 
it  was,  in  her  desk,  and  they  tried  to 
think  no  more  about  it,  though  that  was 
no  easy  task  when  they  needed  help  so 
much. 

A  few  evenings  after  this  occurrence, 
Philip  came  home  so  ill  that  Mrs.  Quin 
felt  sadly  grieved.  "  My  dear  boy,"  she 
said,  as  he  sat  down  at  her  feet  and  lean- 
ed against  her  knee,  "you  must  not  go 
again.  See,  I '  ave  been  able  to  get  some 
employment  too,"  and  she  showed  him 
some  needlework  she  had  been  busy  with 
when  he  came  in.  "Phoebe  Harris  is 
going  to  be  married,  and  she  asked  me 
if  I  knew  any  one  who  could  help  her 
for  the  next  few  weeks,  and  I  gladly  of- 
fered. You  know  I  am  a  famous  needle- 
woman." 

Philip  looked  up  in  mute  dismay.  "Oh, 


^yBleavfll*. 


9 


X30  LYNTONVILLE. 

mother,  mother,  that  it  should  come  to 
this.  You  must  not  do  it.  Indeed,  in- 
deed, it  will  kill  me  to  see  you  working. 
I  cannot  bear  it."  And  in  his  weakness 
and  excitement  he  laid  down  his  head  and 
sobbed. 

''My  darling,"  she  said,  soothing  his 
distress  by  her  gentle  tones,  "you  must 
not  give  way  like  this.  Eather  let  us 
thank  God  that  he  has  put  this  offer  of 
work  in  my  way.  Indeed,  I  have  been 
full  of  thankfulness  ever  since,  for  I  have 
tried  before  to  find  employment  without 
success ;  and  now,  Philip,  I  must  try  and 
do  it  so  well  that  I  may  make  a  reputa- 
tion," she  added  playfully,  though  her 
heart  ached  as  she  looked  at  her  boy. 

"Mother,  God  has  dealt  very  hardly 
with  us." 

"Hush,  my  Philip,"  she  said  solemn- 
ly, "you  must  not  say  such  words. 
*Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth.' 


•^t^*' 


MB.  HABDY'S  STOBE.  131 

Our  trials  come  from  his  loving  hand, 
and  you  know,  dear,  he  can  remove  them 
quite  as  easily  when  he  sees  fit."  A  long 
time  they  sat  thus,  and  talked  together 
as  only  those  who  are  very  near  and  dear 
to  each  other  can;  and  before  going  to 
rest,  they  knelt  together  at  the  throne  of 
grace  to  commit  all  their  cares  and  sor- 
rows into  the  hands  of  Him  who  careth 
for  his  children. 

Philip  resolved  to  go  back  to  the  store 
on  the  morrow,  and  to  ask  for  a  week's 
rest.  He  did  not  know  then  how  very 
soon  his  connection  with  Mr.  Hardy 
would  be  ended. 


'-^'X^P^^'"^' 


-Tr» 


132 


LYNTONVILLE. 


CHAPTER  X.     . 

THE  MISSING  NOTE. 

"Bear  through  sorrow,  wrong,  and  ruth, 
In  thy  heart  the  dew  of  youth, 
On  thy  lips  the  smile  of  truth." 

Though  feeling  very  ill  next  morning, 
Philip  managed  to  crawl  down  to  the 
store,  but  he  had  hardly  entered  the 
door  before  Joe  accosted  him,  his  eyes 
gleaming  with  malicious  delight, 

"Oh,  I  say,  isn't  there  a  jolly  row, 
that 's  all.  Here 's  the  *  boss '  been  storm- 
ing away  all  the  morning,  and  asking  for 
you.  I  expect  you  '11  catch  it  if  ever  you 
did  in  your  life;"  and  Joe  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  rolled  his  eyes  in  the  most 
suggestive  manner. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?"  asked 
Philip,    feeling    rather    uncomfortable, 


THE  MISSING  NOTE. 


133 


though  not  conscious  of  having  done  any 
thing  wrong. 

"Ah,  that's  just  it;  who  did  it,  I 
should  like  to  know?" 

"Well,  but,  Joe,  do  tell  me  what  it 


is. 


ji 


"I  like  your  innocence,"  replied  Joe; 
**  'do  tell,'  indeed.  Just  as  if  I  should 
know  any  thing  about  it.  Only  I  guess 
you  'U  find  out  fast  enough  as  soon  as  the 
*  boss '  has  done  his  breakfast ;  you  'd 
better  ask  him  what  it  is." 

Presently  Mr.  Hardy  made  his  appear- 
ance. 

"Oh,  you've  come,  have  you?"  said 
he  harshly;  "just  walk  this  way ;  I  want 
to  speak  to  you ;"  and  he  collared  Philip, 
and  half  led,  half  dragged  him  into  the 
little  inner  room. 

"Look  here,  boy,  I've  missed  some 
money  from  the  till,  and  ten-dollar  notes 
can't  walk  off  by  themselves.    Now,  do 


134 


LTNTONVILLE. 


you  know  any  thing  about  it?  You  had 
better  speak  the  truth,  mind,  for  I'm 
determined  to  sift  this  matter  to  the 
bottom/' 

Philip  stood  aghast.  "I,  sir?  I  never 
took  any  money  from  the  till.  I  assure 
you  I  would  not  do  such  a  thing ;  I  know 
nothing  of  a  ten-dollar  note.  Indeed  I 
don't  think  I  have  seen  a  ten" — Philip 
suddenly  stopped,  colored,  and  hesitated  ; 
the  remembrance  of  the  note  they  had 
received  through  the  post  flashed  across 
his  mind. 

"Ha,"  said  Mr.  Hardy,  seizing  him 
roughly  by  the  arm,  '*  you  do  know  some- 
thing about  it  then,  after  all,  you  young 
rascal,  do  you?  I  thought  as  much.  Come, 
speak  out." 

**  Oh,  sir,  have  you — do  you  ever  mark 
your  notes  ?" 

"Mark  them?  Oh,  you  want  to  find 
out  that,  do  you,  to  see  whether  it  is 


IS 


THE  MISSING  NOTE.  136 

worth  while  to  confess.  You've  taken 
a  note  with  my  private  mark  on  it,  and 
you  'd  like  to  know  if  you  can  keep  it 
without  being  detected.  But  I'll  have 
the  law  of  you,  that  I  will,  if  I  find  this 
has  been  any  of  your  doings ;  and  if  it  is 
marked,  what  then?  You  don't  leave 
this  room  till — " 

"Mr.  Lynton,  sir,"  said  Joe,  opening 
the  door  at  that  moment,  and  Harry  and 
his  father  entered.  In  an  instant  Har- 
dy's manner  changed,  and  he  dropped 
Philip's  arm,  who  uttered  a  cry  of  joy  as 
he  saw  his  friends. 

"Oh,  sir.  Oh,  Mr.  Lynton,"  cried  he, 
springing  to  his  side,  "  God  has  sent  you 
here,  I  am  sure,  for  I  am  accused  of 
stealing,  and  you  know  I  would  not  do 
such  a  thing." 

Mr.  Lynton  looked  from  one  to  the 
other  in  astonishment. 

"  What 's  all  this  about,  Mr.  Hardy?" 


136 


LYNTONVILLE. 


"  Well,  you  see,  sir,"  said  Hardy  in  a 
fawning  tone,  rubbing  his  hands  in  his 
usual  manner,  "appearances  are  sadly 
against  him,  and  I  was  naturally  roused. 
It  was  only  to  be  expected,  sir.  Here 
I  find  this  morning,  counting  over  my 
receipts  from  the  till,  that  a  ten-dollar 
note  is  missing;  and  when  I  make  inqui- 
ries, this  young  fellow  gets  as  red  as  a 
turkey-cock,  is. confused,  and  hesitates; 
and  what  am  I  to  think  ?  It 's  not  the 
first  little  thing  I  've  missed  lately, 
either." 

"This  is  a  very  serious  accusation, 
Mr.  Hardy,"  said  Mr.  Lynton  with  some 
severity.  "  I  should  like  to  hear  Quin's 
story."  ' 

"  Oh,  certainly,  sir,  certainly.  I  'm 
willing,  I  'm  sure,  to  give  the  lad  every 
chance  of  clearing  himself;  but  it  looks 
suspicious,  sir,  very  suspicious." 

"  We  '11  judge  of  that  presently,"  said 


THE  MISSING  NOTE.  137 

Mr.  Lynton.  "Hush,  Harry;  be  silent, 
if  you  please.  Well,  Philip,  what  have 
you  to  say  for  yourself,  my  boy?"  he 
added  kindly. 

"Oh,  sir,  you  don't  believe  I  could 
be  guilty  of  such  a  thing — you  know  I 
could  n't.  But  I  asked  Mr.  Hardy  if  it 
were  marked,  because — because  we  had 
one  sent  to  us  in  a  letter  a  few  days  ago, 
and  I  noticed  a  little  round  *o'  in  the 
corner."  "Whew!"  whistled  Hardy, 
"a  nice  trumped-up  story  that  is.  You 
do  n't  come  over  me  like  that,  my  boy." 
Philip  took  no  notice  of  the  interrup- 
tion. "You  can  ask  my  mother,  Mr. 
Lynton ;  we  've  got  the  note  now." 
.  "  Well,  if  that  does  n't  beat  all,"  said 
Hardy ;  "  now,  sir,  you  see  I  was  not  far 


wrong. 


jj 


"I  can't  say  I  view  the  case  in  that 
light,  Mr.  Hardy.  When  do  you  say 
this  letter  came,  Philip  ?" 


M 


iU 


138 


LYNTONVILLE. 


A}1 


**It  was  Monday  or  Tuesday,  sir,  I 
forget  which,"  and  the  boy  trembled  so 
from  excitement  he  could  hardly  stand. 

Mr.  Lynton  thought  a  moment.  "  I 
shall  go  at  once  to  Mrs.  Quin,  taking 
Philip  with  me,  to  ascertain  the  truth  of 
this  matter,  for  I  wish  to  see  it  satisfac- 
torily cleared  up,  and  I  beg  you  will  fol- 
low, Mr.  Hardy."  ' 

"Yery  well,  sir;  I  will  attend  you 
most  willingly." 

Mr.  Lynton's  conveyance  was  in.  the 
village,  and  they  drove  immediately  to 
Mrs.  Quin's  lodging.  The  widow's  heart , 
sank  as  she  saw  Philip  returning  at  this 
unusual  hour  in  company  with  Mr.  Lyn- 
ton, for  she  feared  some  new  evil  had 
happened  to  her  boy,  and  she  hastened 
out  to  meet  them.       ^ 

"  We  want  you  to  settle  a  knotty 
point  for  us,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Mr. 
Lynton  after  his  first  friendly  salutation. 


THE  MISSING  NOTE. 


139 


*'  An  unpleasant  incident  has  occurred  in 
Mr.  Hardy's  store ;  some  money  is  miss- 
ing, and  Philip  has  mentioned  that  a 
note  has  come  into  your  possession  in  an 
unaccountable  manner,  which  seems  to 
give  a  clue  to  the  lost  one." 

"  How  thankful  I  am,"  said  Mrs.  Quin, 
"I  kept  the  note.  Here  it  is,  in  the  very 
envelope  it  came  in ;"  and  she  unlocked 
her  desk,  and  placed  it  in  Mr.  Lynton's 
hands.  "Although  I  thought  it  not 
improbable  that  some  kind  friend  might 
have  wished  to  surprise  us,  I  could  not 
r*  feel  comfortable  In  making  use  of  it  with- 
out some  further  knowledge." 

Mr.  Lynton  handed  the  note  to  Hardy, 
who  instantly  recognized  it  as  his  own. 

"That's  it,  sure  enough,"  said  he,  "for 
here 's  my  private  mark  on  it ;  and  now 
the  question  is  who  the  thief  may  be, 
and  that  to  my  mind  is  as  clear  as  day- 
light." 


140 


LTNTONVILLE. 


"And  pray  what  is  your  solution  of 
the  difficulty,  Mr.  Hardy?  for  in  truth  I 
cannot  see  ray  way  through  the  busi- 


ness. 


11. 


**Why,  it's  just  this,  sir:  the  lad 
wants  money;  he  takes  the  note,  posts 
it  to  himself,  and  brings  it  home  to  his 
mother.  I  'm  sorry  to  say  it,  ma'am,  for 
your  sake,  for  I  dare  say  you  knew  noth- 
ing about  the  matter;  but  your  son's  the 
thief,  or  I  'm  very  much  mistaken." 

"Oh,  mother,  you  don't  believe  I 
could  have  done  it?  Tell  me,  Oh  tell 
me  you  know  me  to  be  innocent.  God^ 
knows  I  am.  Has  he  forsaken  us  alto- 
gether?" cried  the  poor  lad,  clasping 
his  hands  in  an  agony  of  despair.  "Oh, 
Mr.  Lynton,  do,  do  believe  me.  I  never 
saw  the  note  until  I  took  it  out  of  the 
envelope;  indeed,  indeed  I  didn't.  I 
assure  you  I  am  speaking  nothing  but  the 
truth ;  I  never  told  a  lie  in  my  life." 


! 


THE  MISSING  NOTE. 


141 


of 


i 


"  God  have  mercy  upon  us,"  said  Mrs. 
Quin  as  the  hot  tears  rolled  down  her 
face;  "we  have  never  seen  such  trouble 
as  this."  Harry  stood  by  meanwhile, 
burning  with  indignation.  Why  did  n't 
his  father  turn  the  fellow  out ;  how  dared 
he  say  that  Philip  was  a  thief?  But  Mr. 
Lynton  was  too  judicious  to  act  hastily 
in  such  a  case,  knowing  that  he  would 
injure  rather  than  benefit  Philip's  cause ; 
besides,  he  felt  that  it  must  be  thor- 
oughly investigated,  and  though  his  be- 
lief in  the  innocence  of  the  boy  remained 
unshaken,  yet  he  could  not  but  acknow- 
ledge that  appearances  were  against 
him. 

**  You  say  this  note  has  been  abstract- 
ed from  your  till,  Mr.  Hardy ;  pray  has 
no  one  else  besides  Quin  had  access  to 
itr  .       • 

"Well,  I  can't  say  but  there  has; 
there 's  Joe  and  may-be  Jack,  if  he  had 


142 


LYNTONVILLE. 


a  mind  to  steal,  might  find  some  way  to 
get  at  it ;  but  the  thing  is,  you  see,  sir, 
that  here  ^s  the  very  ideiiacal  note,  and 
it  is  n't  a  very  likely  thing  that  either  of 
them  would  steal  out  of  charity." 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Lynton,  as  an  idea 
struck  him,  "but  it  is  possible  that  this 
has  been  done  to  fasten  suspicion  upon 
an  innocent  person.  I  must  examine  the 
lads  you  speak  of  at  once;  and,  Philip, 
you  may  rest  assured  that  your  previous 
character  will  go  far  to  clear  you  from 
this  imputation  in  the  sight  of  your 
friends,  until  it  is  proved  beyond  a  doubt 
that  you  are  guilty." 

Philip  had  quite  regained  his  com- 
posure ;  but  the  hot  flush  had  faded  from 
his  face,  leaving  him  so  deadly  pale  that 
Mr.  Lynton  was  shocked  to  see  the  change 
that  had  taken  place  in  his  appearance 
in  a  few  short  weeks. 

"I  cannot  say  more  than  I  have  said, 


IHE  MISSING  NOTE.  143 

Mr.  Lynton,  and  my  mother  knows  it  is 
true.  We  have  often  wanted  money, 
and  when  that  letter  came  I  thanked 
God  that  he  had  put  it  into  the  heart  of 
some  kind  friend  to  send  it.  I  little 
thought  then  it  would  be  the  means  of 
such  trouble  to  us ;  and  now  I  can  only 
wait  patiently  till — "  The  door  sud- 
denly opened,  and  all  eyes  turned  tow- 
ards the  new-comer.  Tom  Hardy,  for  it 
was  he,  walked  straight  up  to  his  father. 

"  Look  here,  father,"  said  he,  "stop  all 
this ;  do  n't  accuse  Philip  Quin  of  doing 
what  you  know  it  is  not  in  him  to  do.  I 
took  the  note." 

"You!"  exclaimed  all  the  party  in 
various  tones  of  surprise;  and  Harry 
shouted,  "Tom  Hardy  for  ever!"  not 
caring  in  his  glee  who  was  the  guilty 
party,  so  long  as  Philip  was  cleared. 

"You,  you  young  scoundrel,  you  rob- 
bed your  father's  till!"  cried  Mr.  Hardy, 


144 


LYNTONVILLE. 


turning  upon  hira  furiously;  "come  along 
with  me,  and — " 

"Stop,  Mr.  Hardy,  we  have  a  right 
to  hear  the  story  out;  speak  out,  boy." 
Tom  Hardy  looked  Mr.  Lynton  full  in 
the  face,  sullen,  but  resolute. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  why  I  took  it,  Mr.  Lyn- 
ton. I  saw  Quin  getting  thinner  and 
thinner ;  I  knew  four  dollars  a  week  was 
barely  enough  to  keep  him  from  starv- 
ing, and  that  my  father  ought  to  give 
him  more,  and  I  thought  to  help  him. 
I  suppose  you  '11  say  it  was  wicked.  I 
pretty  nearly  always  am  wicked  now," 
he  added  bitterly;  "but  I  can't  help  it. 
If  you  knew  all — " 

"  Can't  help  robbing  your  father,  you 
good-for-nothing  boy?"  screamed  Mr. 
Hardy.  "I'll  teach  you  to  say  you 
can't  help  it,"  and  he  made  a  rush  at  his 
son  as  if  he  were  going  to  administer 
summary  punishment  then   and   there. 


THE  MISSING  NOTE. 


145 


Philip,  who  had  sunk  down  on  a  seat  by 
his  mother^s  side,  half  bewildered  by  the 
sudden  turn  events  had  taken,  started 
up.  "Oh,  Mr.  Hardy,  don't  be  angry 
with  him,  pray  don't  be  angry;  1*11  do 
any  thing  if  you  '11  only  promise  not  to 
punish  him." 

"Never  mind,  Quin,  let  him  beat  me 
if  he  likes ;  it  does  n't  much  matter.  I  'm 
sure  you  need  n't  beg  for  me,  for  I  've 
only  done  you  harm." 

"Wait  a  while,  Mr.  Hardy,"  inter- 
rupted Mr.  Lynton.  "  Why  did  you  not 
ask  your  father  for  the  money,  Tom  ?" 

"Because  I  knew  he  wouldn't  give  it 
to  me.  I  expected  there  'd  be  no  end  of 
a  row  when  it  was  discovered,  but  I 
didn't  mean  the  blame  to  fall  on  him," 
and  he  pointed  over  his  shoulder  to 
Philip;  "I  thought  he  would  have  spent 
the  money  before  now  too." 

"And  you  actually  braved  your  fa- 


Lj-ntonrlll*. 


10 


146 


LYNTONVILLE. 


ther's  anger,  and  committed  this  theft,  to 
do  Philip  Qnin  a  kindness?"  For  the 
first  time  the  boy  faltered  and  was  silent. 
*'This  is  a  very  strange  story,  Mr. 
Hardy,  and  yet  I  am  bound  to  believe 
it.  I  am  also  much  pained  to  find  that 
you  have  deceived  me  with  regard  to 
Quin.  You  are  aware  that  before  I  left 
home  some  weeks  ago,  I  had  a  conversa- 
tion with  you  on  the  subject;  and  you 
then  professed  yourself  so  well  satisfied 
with  the  lad,  that  you  agreed  to  increase 
his  salary  from  that  date ;  this  I  find  you 
have  not  done.  After  what  has  occurred 
to-day,  if  Mrs.  Quin  will  permit  me  to 
take  this  matter  into  my  own  hands, 
Philip  will  no  longer  remain  in  your  ser- 
vice ;  and  if  your  word  is  of  any  value, 
the  note  is  still  his  by  rights,  the  arrears 
of  his  hard-won  earnings  for  the  past  five 
weeks,  and  you  are  yet  six  dollars  in  his 
debt  for  the  present  one."    Hardy,  bit- 


THE  MISSING  NOTE. 


147 


ing  his  lip  to  control  his  passion,  threw 
down  the  money  on  the  table  and  stalked 
out  of  the  room  without  more  ado;  his 
son  was  about  to  follow,  when  Mr.  Lyn- 
ton  held  out  his  hand  to  him.  "As  for 
you,  Tom,  you  have  done  very  wrong, 
but  I  believe  you  did  it  though tlessly^ 
and  under  a  strong  sense  of  the  injustice 
done  to  Philip.  If  you  come  up  to  Lyn- 
tonville  to-morrow,  I  shall  be  glad  to 
speak  to  yoii." 

When  they  were  left  alone,  Harry's 
joy  could  brook  no  further  restraints. 
He  clapped  his  hands,  and  capered  about 
in  the  most  eccentric  manner. 

"  Philip,  my  boy,  I  congratulate  you," 
said  Mr.  Lynton,  shaking  him  warmly  by 
the  hand,  "and  you  also,  my  dear  madam ; 
and  now  I  think  a  little  change  of  scene 
and  rest  after  all  this  trouble  and  annoy- 
ance will  do  you  no  harm ;  so  if  you  will 
kindly  put  up  any  thing  you  may  require^^ 


148 


LYNTONVILLE. 


I  will  come  round  in  half  an  hour  and 
drive  you  both  back  with  me.  Mrs.  Lyn- 
ton  is  already  prepared  to  welcome  you, 
for  I  sent  off  a  messenger  some  time  ago, 
though  I  hardly  hoped  then  we  should 
have  been  so  cheerful." 

Very  shortly  after,  the  happy  party 
were  all  assembled  once  more  in  the  hos- 
pitable old  homestead  of  Lyntonville. 


THE  CONFESSION. 


149 


CHAPTER   XI. 


THE  CONFESSION. 

*'I  saw  that  I  was  lost,  far  gone  astray ; 

No  hope  of  safe  return  there  seemed  to  be ; 
But  then  I  heard  that  Jesus  was  the  way, 
A  new  and  living  way  prepared  for  me." 

The  change  was  so  pleasant  to  Philip, 
that  he  could  scarcely  realize  at  first  his 
freedom  from  hard  work  and  the  watch- 
ful eye  of  his  harsh  master ;  and  when 
Mr.  Lynton  took  him  into  his  library,  and 
pointed  out  a  number  of  shelves  from 
which  he  might  choose  any  book  he  liked, 
his  delight  knew  no  bounds.  Was  it 
possible  that  his  weary  shop-boy  life  was 
over,  and  he  had  leisure  once  more  to 
return  to  his  much-loved  studies  ?  But 
in  a  day  or  two  the  reaction  came,  and 
ihe  exciting  events  of  the  past  week  in 


150 


LYNTONVILLE. 


particular  began  to  wear  on  his  feeble 
frame. 

Nothing  was  heard  of  Tom  Hardy  next 
day  until  Harry  returned  from  school 
with  the  news  that  he  had  left  the  village, 
no  one  seemed  to  know  why  or  wherefore. 
For  a  time,  Philip  seemed  to  be  grad- 
ually recovering;  but  when  the  severe 
cold  set  in,  and  he  was  no  longer  able  to 
leave  the  house,  the  slight  improvement 
was  checked,  and  he  became  very  ill. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lynton  would  not  hear  of 
his  leaving  their  hospitable  roof,  for  they 
knew  he  needed  tender  nursing,  and 
many  comforts  which  his  mother's  slender 
means  could  not  afford. 

"No,  my  dear  friend,"  Mrs.  Lynton 
would  say,  "you  know  it  is  quite  an  ac- 
quisition to  us  to  have  such  an  addition 
to  our  party  in  this  dreary  winter  weath- 
er, and  Harry  is  so  delighted  at  having  a 
com-panion  again  that  it  would  be  quite 


THE   CONFESSION.  151 

cruel  to  leave  him  alone  at  present." 
The  widow's  eyes  would  fill  with  tears, 
as  she  thanked  the  kind  friends  whom 
God  had  raised,  up  for  her  in  her  sore 
distress.  For  a  dark  shadow  hung  over 
her.  Her  son,  her  only  son  was  passing 
away,  as  she  feared,  before  her  eyes,  and 
it  seemed  as  though  the  light  of  her  life 
would  be  quenched.  It  became  necessa- 
ry soon  to  keep  Philip  a  close  prisoner 
to  his  room,  for  the  only  chance  of  sa,ving 
him  seemed  to  be  to  nurse  him  carefully 
through  the  long  winter,  and  his  foad 
mother  clung  to  the  hope  that  new  health 
and  life  might  come  to  her  boy  with  the 
breath  of  the  sweet  spring-time.  Harry 
spent  the  greater  part  of  his  leisure  with 
his  friend,  and  helped  to  cheer  him  with 
his  unfailing  mirth  and  high  spirits.  He 
never  thought  for  a  moment  that  Philip 
was  in  any  danger;  so  his  merry  laugh 
rang  out  clear  as  ever,  as  he  rushed  into 


162  LYNTONVILLE. 

his  room  with  some  tale  of  school-life, 
full  of  boisterous  glee  and  rude  health. 

One  day  he  was  running  home  as  fast 
as  usual,  when  he  saw  a  boy  skulking 
about  near  the  house,  and  to  his  surprise 
Tom  Hardy  came  up. 

"I've  been  watching  for  you  this  long 
time,  Lynton  ;  tell  me  how  Quin  is." 

"  Why,  where  have  you  sprung  from, 
Hardy  ?  I  thought  you  had  gone  away," 
said  Harry,  without  answering  his  ques- 
tion, and  wondering  at  his  gaunt  looks,  so 
different  from  the  last  time  they  met. 

**  Well,  you  see,  I  'm  here  now,  at  any 
rate  :  but  I  want  to  know,  how 's  Quin?" 

"He's  very  ill,"  said  Harry,  looking 
grave. 

"Where  is  he  now?  Up  here?"  said 
Hardy,  with  a  nod  of  his  head  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  house. 

"  Yes,  they  ve  been  here  ever  since." 

"But  tell  me,  Lynton,  he  isn't  going 


THE  CONFESSION. 


153 


to — to  die?"  said  Tom,  with  quivering 
lips. 

Harry  looked  at  him  with  astonish- 
ment; the  idea  had  never  struck  him,  but 
he  did  not  like  it  nevertheless.  "No," 
he  answered  shortly,  "of  course  not." 

"I  wonder  if  I — " 

"Why,  Hardy,  what's  the  matter?" 
asked  Lynton  in  surprise,  for  the  boy 
was  so  unlike  his  former  self  that  even 
"careless  Harry"  could  not  fail  to  be 
struck  by  it. 

"I  don't  know;  I  'm  very  hungry." 

"Why,  man,  come  along;  why  didn't 
you  say  so  before  ?  I  '11  find  something 
for  you,"  cried  Harry;  "here,  this  way," 
and  he  led  him  towards  the  house.  At 
the  door  Mr.  Lynton  met  them. 

"Tom  Hardy,  you  here;  is  it  possi- 
ble ?"  said  he. 

"I'm  going  to  get  him  something  to 
eat,  papa;  he  says  he's  hungry." 


154 


LYNTONVILLE. 


"  I  Ve  had  no  food  to-day,  and  scarce  any 
yesterday,"  said  Hardy,  "or  I  wouldn't 
ask." 

"  Poor  fellow;  why,  how  is  this,  Har- 
dy? But  come  in,  you  are  not  in  a  lit 
state  to  answer  questions ;"  and  Mr.  Lyn- 
ton  brought  him  in,  while  Harry  busied 
himself  in  getting  a  comfortable  meal 
provided  for  his  former  school- fellow. 

"And  now.  Hardy,  come  into  the  li- 
brary, and  tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  Mr. 
Lynton,  rising  when  he  had  finished. 
Tom  followed  him  into  the  snug  warm 
room.  "I  expected  to  see  you  again 
after  the  last  time  we  met,  but  Harry 
came  home  and  told  us  that  you  had  dis- 
appeared.    What  happened  then?" 

"Did  n't  you  hear,  sir,  that  my  father 
turned  me  out  of  doors  ?  He  told  me 
that  if  I  ever  dared  to  come  into  his  sight 
again,  he  would  have  me  taken  up  and 
put  in  prison  j  so  I  ran  away  that  night. 


THE  CONFESSION. 


155 


Jack  managed  to  put  up  some  of  my 
clothes  for  me  on  the  sly,  and  I  had  a 
Jittle  money.  I  walked  as  far  as  the 
'Four  Corners/  where  the  stage  stopped, 
and  got  a  lift  on  to  Midborough." 

"And  what  did  you  do  when  you  got 
there?" 

-  "Well,  sir,  I  scarcely  know  how  I 
have  lived  this  last  two  months,  but  I  got 
errands,  and  one  thing  and  another,  so 
that  I  did  n't  starve :  and  a  woman  who 
once  lived  about  here,  gave  me  lodging 
for  a  trifle,  and  a  dinner  too  sometimes  j 
but  it  was  hard  work." 

"But  what  brought  you  back  here, 
Tom  ?" 

The  boy  looked  down  and  hesitated. 
His  lips  were  no  strangers  to  a  lie :  but 
Philip's  life  had  not  been  without  its  ef- 
fect upon  him.  He  had  been  kept  from 
stealing  many  a  time,  when  sore  pressed 
by  hunger,  by  .the  memory  of  his  patient 


156 


LYNTONVILLE. 


endurance  j  and  now  he  had  been  drawn 
back  to  the  neighborhood  chiefly  by  a 
rumor  of  Philip's  serious  illness,  which, 
had  reached  him  by  chance  at  Midbor- 
ough.  He  felt  he  must  confess,  for  the 
weight  on  his  conscience  was  more  than 
he  could  bear.  Philip  might  be  dying, 
and  he  must  ask  his  forgiveness  before  it 
was  too  late.  Mr.  Lynton's  kind  words 
too  had  not  been  thrown  away,  and  he 
did  not  fear  to  meet  him  again,  but  he 
was  not  prepared  to  unburden  his  mind 
to  him.  He  could  not  tell  Mr.  Lynton 
why  he  was  there  without  betraying  his 
secret.  Mr.  Lynton,  surprised  at  his  con- 
tusion, repeated  his  question. 

"I — I  want  to  see  Quin,"  he  blurted 
out  at  length. 

"  Well,  you  shall  see  him  presently," 
said  Mr.  Lynton  kindly ;  "but  what  are 
you  going  to  do  with  yourself  after- 
wards?" 


THE  CONFESSION. 


157 


**I  don't  know;  going  back,  I  sup- 
pose/' said  Tom  rather  dubiously. 

"  Well,  I  must  see  what  can  be  done ; 
perhaps  I  may  be  able  to  find  some  em- 
ployment for  you.  Come  in,"  he  added, 
as  Harry  knocked  at  the  door. 

**  Philip  wants  to  see  Hardy,  papa, 
when  you  have  done  with  him." 

**You  can  go  now,  Tom,"  said  Mr. 
Lynton ;  and  Harry  led  the  way  to  the 
room  which  Philip  occupied.  The  sofa 
on  which  he  was  lying  was  drawn  tow- 
ards the  window,  and  the  pale  crescent 
of  the  new  moon  shone  in  in  the  cold 
grey  twilight  of  a  winter's  afternoon. 
Philip  held  out  his  wasted  hand  as  Har- 
dy entered,  and  Harry  left  them  together. 
"I'm  sorry  you're  so  bad,  Quin,"  said 
Hardy,  looking  frightened  and  pale,  and 
beginning  to  repent  of  his  resolution  to 
confess — H  seemed  so  much  more  diffi- 
cult, now  that  the  time  had  come. 


158 


LYNTONVILLE. 


**  I  wanted  so  much  to  see  you,  Hafdy ; 
you  do  n^t  mind  coming  up,  do  you  ?  I  Ve 
been  ill,  and  sometimes  I  think  I  shall 
never  be  any  better;  and  I  thought  I 
should  like  to  give  you  this,"  said  Philip, 
laying  hip  hand  on  the  Bible  by  his  side, 
which  Mr.  Elmslie  had  given  him,  and 
Tom  had  saved  from  the  fire.  "See,  I 
have  written  your  name  in  it ;  and,  Har- 
dy, you  will  keep  it  and  read  it  for  my 
sake,  wont  you?"  he  added  earnestly. 
"Dear  Tom,  will  you  promise  me?" 

"Oh,  I  can't,  I  can't  have  it,"  sobbed 
the  boy,  quite  broken  down  by  Philip's 
pleading  words.  "I've  done  you  more 
harm  than  any  one  else  ever  did,  and  I 
can't — I  can't." 

"  Oh  Hardy,  you  will?  It  is  the  last 
thing,  most  likely,  I  shall  ever  ask  you, 
and  you  wont  refuse  me?  I  know  you 
will  not." 

Tom  rose  from  his  low  seat  bj^  Philip's 


THE  CONFESSION. 


159 


side,  and  calming  himself,  spoke  rapidly 
and  with  a  strong  effort. 

"Stay,  you  don't  know  all;  wait  till 
you  hear,  and  then  you  will  hate  and  de- 
spise me  as  I  hate  and  despise  myself 
now;  but  I  must  tell;  I  came  here  to 
tell  you,  for  I  can't  keep  it  to  myself  any 
longer,  and  I  don't  care  what  becomes 
of  me.  I  burnt  do.wn  your  place  there, 
I  did,  because  I  hated  to  see  you  getting 
the  prizes  and  keeping  above  me  in  the 
class.  Do  you  hear?"  said  he,  seeing 
Philip  looked  neither  surprised  nor  indig- 
nant ;  "  I  tell  you  't  was  I  set  fire  to  your 
arbor  that  night.  I  did  n't  mean  to  burn 
the  cottage,  but  it  caught.  It  was  I  that 
ruined  you,  Quin,  and  brought  all  this 
trouble  upon  you ;  and  if  you  die,  I  shall 
feel  I  have  killed  you:  and  now  you 
know  all."  His  forced  composure  gave 
way,  and  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands, 
he  sobbed  as  if  his  heart  would  break. 


IGO 


LYNTONVILLE. 


There  was  silence  in  the  room  for  a  min- 
ute, broken  only  by  the  sound  of  Hardy's 
weeping;  and  then  Philip  laid  his  hand 
gently  on  his  arm. 

"  Dear  Hardy,  I  have  known  all  this 
a  long  time."  The  boy  looked  up  in 
blank  amazement.  **  Yes,"  continued 
Philip,  **I  suspected  it  from  the  very 
first,  and  I  '11  tell  you  why.  Do  you 
remember  losing  your  knife  about  that 
time  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Hardy,  "  and  I  searched 
and  searched  for  it  again  and  again." 

"Well,  I  picked  it  up  where  you  had 
dropped  it  that  night,  and  I  have  ever 
since  been  pretty  nearly  sure  that  you 
did  it.  I  let  the  knife  fall  into  the  hol- 
low tree  up  by  Long  Acre  afterwards." 

"And  you  never  told?" 

"No,"  said  Philip ;  "  I  was  very  angry 
at  first ;  but  then  I  thought  how  it  was — 
that  it  was  worse  than  you  meant  it  to 


THE  CONFESSION. 


161 


be  ;  so  I  have  always  kept  the  secret. 
I  did  not  mean  to  tell  you  now,  only  you 
spoke  yourself." 

"Oh,  Quin,  how  could  yod ?  And^you 
worked  so  hard,  and  were  accused  of 
stealing  too,  when  you  knew  it  was  all 
my  doing ;  and  you  never  spoke  a  word." 

"I  prayed  that  God  would  help  me, 
Hardy,  and  he  did.  I  was  very  near 
telling  two  or  three  times  though.  If  I 
had  not  had  strength  given  me,  I  should 
have  done  so." 

"  But,  Quin,  why  did  n't  you  speak  up? 
My  father  would  have  been  obliged  to 
make  it  all  straight  j  and  besides,  you  'd 
have  had  your  revenge." 

"  I  have  had  my  revenge,"  said  Philip 
smiling;  but  Hardy  broke  down  again. 

**  Oh,  Quin,  if  I  had  only  known.  I 
believe  you  arc  really  good ;  I  do.  But 
I  've  been  taught  to  sneer  and  scolF  until 
I  scarcely  know  right  from  wrong.    To 


liTntAiiTlll*. 


11 


162 


LYNTONVILLE. 


think  that  you  should  have  known  it  all 
the  time,  and  never  spoke.  Oh,  I  wish 
I  could  be  good  like  you,  I  'm  so  miser- 
able :  but  I  never  shall  be ;  I  'm  too 
wicked  for  that ;  and  I  've  got  a  fit  pun- 
ishment for  burning  you  out,  for  now  I  Ve 
no  home  to  go  to.  I  wish  I  were  dead, 
that  I  do.'' 

**  Oh,  Tom,  do  n't  say  that,'/  said  Phil- 
ip ;  '*  it  makes  me  shudder  to  hear  you 
speak  so  wickedly.  Think  what  a  sol- 
emn thing  it  is  to  die.  Are  you  ready 
to  appear  in  the  presence  of  God,  and  to 
give  an  account  of  all  you  have  dona  in 
this  world?  Dear  Tom,  you  have  coi\.- 
fessed  your  fault  to  me,  but  let  me  ask 
you,  have  you  ever  thought  of  confessing 
your  sins  to  God,  and  asking  him  to  par- 
don you  for  Christ's  sake  ?" 

**No,"  said  Tom,  "I  never  thought  of 
that,  Philip  ;  you  know  I  was  not  brought 
up  as  you  have  been.     We  were  never 


THE  CONFESSION.  163 

taught  much  about  God,  except  in  our 
lessons  at  school,  and  I  tried  to  think  as 
little  of  them  as  I  could  after  they  were 
said.  I  did  not  think  God  would  care 
for  what  I  did." 

"  God  cares  for  all,  dear  Tom  ;  he  not 
only  made  the  world,  he  rules  it  too. 
*  His  eyes  are  in  every  place,  beholding 
the  evil  and  the  good.'  He  sees  all  that 
we  think,  as  well  as  all  that  we  do ;  he 
hears  every  word  we  say ;  and  he  has 
said  that  not  only  for  every  evil  deed, 
but  for  *  every  idle  word  that  men  shall 
speak,  they  shall  give  account  in  the  day 
of  judgment."' 

Tom  looked  up  anxiously  at  Philip. 
"Then  what  is  to  become  of  me?"  said 
he  ;  "I  have  been  so  wicked,  and  have 
done  so  much  evil.  You  are  happy, 
Philip ;  you  have  always  been  good  ; 
you  are  sure  to  go  to  heaven  ;  but  what 
is  to  become  of  me  ?" 


164 


LYNTONVILLE. 


"I  am  not  good,  Tom  ;  and  if  I  could 
get  to  heaven  only  by  my  own  goodness, 
I  should  never  get  there  at  all.  I  feel 
that  I  am  a  sinner,  that  there  is  no  good 
thing  in  me,  and  my  only  hope  of  being 
.saved  is  through  what  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  has  done  for  us.  He  died  on  the 
cross  to  save  us  poor  sinners.  I  trust 
in  him  alone  ;  and  he  will  save  you  too, 
if  you  ask  him."  ^   , 

"I  learned  that  at  school,"  said  Tom, 
"but  I  never  thought  much  about  it.  I 
did  not  think  then  that  I  was  a  sinner. 
I  had  not  done  any  thing  very  bad  till  I 
burnt  your  house,  and  you  know,  Philip, 
that  I  did  not  mean  to  do  such  a  wicked 
thing :  I  only  meant  to  burn  the  summer- 
house  ;  artd  you  could  easily  have  built 
that  again.  But  somehow,  ever  since 
then  I  seem  to  have  been  going  from  bad 
to  worse.  I  am  bad  enough  now,  I 
feel  that.     But  still  I  think  you  have 


THE  CONFESSION. 


165 


been  good,  Philip;  you  have  been  an 
honest  boy  and  a  good  son." 

"Even  if  my  outward  conduct  had 
been  quite  good,"  said  Philip,  "which  it 
has  not  always  been,  still  my  heart  has 
been  wicked.  Sin  ruled  in  my  heart  by 
nature,  as  it  does  in  the  heart  of  every 
unrenewed  sinner;  and  though  I  trust 
that  I  am  pardoned  for  Christ's  sake, 
and  I  strive  against  sin  as  a  thing  he 
hates,  yet  I  feel  daily  need  of  forgive- 
ness, and  pray  daily  that  God  would 
grant  me  his  Holy  Spirit,  to  purify  my 
heart  and  keep  me  from  evil." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  'every  unre- 
newed sinner  V  "  asked  Tom. 

"Every  one  who  has  not  become  a 
new  creature  by  having  his  sinful  nature 
changed  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  his  sins 
washed  away  by  the  blood  of  Christ. 
All  need  this  change,  and  none  can  be 
saved  without  it;  for  our  Lord  himself 


166 


LYNTONVILLE. 


has  said,  *  Except  a  man  be  born  again, 
he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God.' " 

"But  will  God  change  my  heart?" 
said  Tom ;  "  am  I  not  too  bad  to  become 
really  good  now  ?" 

"Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  welcomes  all, 
even  the  worst,  even  the  chief  of  sinners. 
He  says,  *  I  am  not  come  to  call  the  right- 
eous, but  sinners  to  repentance;'  and 
*  him  that  cometh  unto  me  I  will  in  no 
wise  cast  out.'  You  will  find  many  such 
promises  in  God's  word.  That 's  why  I 
want  you  to  have  my  Bible ;  it 's  God's 
message  to  us,  you  know,  and  it  teaches 
us  what  we  must  do.  You  will  read  it, 
wont  you  ?  and  then  you  will  love  it  as 
I  do."  , 

"Well,  I  will  for  your  sake ;  otherwise 
I  should  hate  to  look  at  it,  because  it  was 
partly  envy  about  it  that  made  me  do 
wrong  at  first.  But  did  the  Bible  teach 
you  not  to  tell  ?  I  do  n't  understand." 


THE  CONFESSION. 


1G7 


Philip  opened  his  little  Testament,  and 
pointed  out  several  passages.  They  sat 
and  talked  together  some  time,  and  at 
last  Hardy  said, 

"  I  suppose  I  must  go  now,  and  I  need 
not  show  my  face  to  Mr.  Lynton  again, 
for  you  '11  tell  now,  Philip  ?'' 

"Oh,  Hardy,  do  tell  yourself,  you  will 
feel  so  much  happier ;  I  'ra  sure  you  will." 

"  Well,  but  Mr.  Lynton  said  he  would 
try  to  help  me,  and  he  wont  do  it  if  I 
tell ;  but  if  you  do  n't  mind  keeping  the* 
secret,  Philip,  as  you  have  done  for  so 
long,"  and  a  gleam  of  hope  brightened 
his  face,  "  perhaps  he  will ;  and  I  'm  half 
starved  now." 

Philip  looked  troubled.  "It  would  n't 
be  right.  Hardy,  indeed  it  would  not. 
You  must  tell  him,  and  I  know  he  wont 
be  angry,  for  he  is  so  kind.  Oh  do, 
please  do  tell  him  yourself." 

"But,  Quin,  I  can't;  he'd  be  so  aw- 


168 


LYNTONVILLE. 


fully  angry.  I  'd  much  rather  go  away 
and  shift  for  myself." 

"He  wont  be  angry,  Hardy;  and  if 
you  like,  I  '11  tell  him  for  you,  if  you  stay 
here  ;  Oh  do  let  me." 

"  But  your  mother,  Philip,  and  all  of 
them,  they  will  never  forgive  me.  No, 
let  ine  ^o  away ;  1  can  get  on  somehow. 
They  think  I  'm  bad  enough  as  it  is,  with- 
out this." 

"  No,  they  will  not;  I  wont  let  you  go 
away.  Hardy.  Mother,"  he  cried  as  he 
heard  hf  >'  light  step  in  the-  adjoining 
room,  "  come  and  sit  down  here  by  me 
a  little  while.  Here 's  Tom  Hardy ;  I 
know  you  '11  be  glad  to  see  him ;"  and 
very  gently,  and  little  by  little,  he  helped 
Hardy  to  make  his  confession.  Mrs. 
Quin  was  much  astonished  as  the  truth 
dawned  upon  her ;  but  his  evident  dis- 
tress and  sorrow  disarmed  every  feeling 
of  resentment,  and  only  thankfulness  for 


THE  CONFESSION. 


169 


the  noble  conduct  of  her  boy  remained. 
Mr.  Lynton  was  told  the  whole  story; 
and  though  he  spoke  very  seriously  to 
Hardy,  it  was  not  in  displeasure,  nor  did 
he  retract  his  promise  of  endeavoring 
to  find  him  some  suitable  employment. 
Hardy  could  never  forget  Philip's  kind- 
ness, or  the  earnest,  pleading  words  he 
had  spoken.  The  memory  of  that  inter- 
view will  remain  with  him  till  his  dying 
hour ;  and  from  that  time  he  became  an 
altered  character.  We  do  not  mean  that 
he  suddenly  became  good  and  pious  and 
unselfish,  but  that  day  was  the  turning- 
point  in  his  life  ;  and  Philip  was  the 
instrument,  in  God's  hands,  of  working 
this  happy  change  in  one  hitherto  so 
unpromising. 

Suitable  occupation  was  eventually 
obtained  for  Tom,  but  not  before  he  had 
been  reconciled  to  his  father,  through  the 
kind  intercession  of  Mr.  Lynton ;  but  Mr. 


170 


LYNTONVILLE. 


Hardy  having  expressed  a  wish  that  he 
should  have  an  opportunity  of  gaining 
experience  elsewhere  before  settling 
again  in  Fairfield,  Tom  returned  to  Mid- 
borough,  where  he  remained  some  years. 
Happily  he  fell  into  good  hands,  and  as 
time  advanced  he  was  enabled,  by  the 
grace  of  God,  to  overcome  the  disadvan- 
tages of  his  early  associations.  If  we 
take  a  glance  into  the  future,  we  shall 
sep  that  he  has  so  far  gained  the  esteem 
and  approbation  of  his  fellow-citizens  in 
a  commendable  and  successful  career, 
that  if  circumstances  do  not  belie  the 
expectations  of  his  most  sanguine  friends, 
he  will  yet  be  a  member  of  the  Legisla- 
tive Council  of  his  country. 


CONCLUSION. 


171 


CHAPTER  XII. 


CONCLUSION. 


*'  Be  Btill,  sad  heart,  and  cease  repining  ; 
Behind  the  cloud  is  the  sun  still  shining." 

*'  Weeping  may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the 

morning." 

March  had  set  in  with  hard  frosts 
and  keen,  biting  winds,  but  every  one 
rejoiced  that  the  long  winter  was  nearly- 
over;  and  as  Philip  seemed  no  worse 
than  he  had  been  for  some  months,  hope 
began  to  grow  strong  in  his  mother's 
heart.     But  the  doctor  shook  his  head. 

"I  fear  the  month  of  May  more  than 
any  thing  for  him,"  he  said  one  day  to 
Mrs.  Lynton;  "the  sudden  changes  of 
our  climate  are  so  trying  to  patients  of 
this  class.  A  sea- voyage  might  save 
him ;  but  I  Ve  not  said  so  before,  for  in 


172 


LYNTONVILLE. 


Mrs.  Quints  circumstances  it  must  be  out 
of  the  o'ipstion." 

Philip,  who  was  inclined  to  be  rather 
desponding  by  nature,  had  long  given  up 
all  hopes  of  recovering;  and  his  most 
sorrowful  thought  was  of  the  parting  with 
his  mother,  and  leaving  her  to  fight  the 
hard  battle  of  life  alone.  Often  thev 
would  read  together  the  descriptions  of 
the  heavenly  land  to  which  he  seemed 
to  be  hastening,  where  there  would  be 
no  more  sorrow  or  parting,  and  where 
tears  would  be  wiped  from  every  eye. 
But  the  parting  was  not  so  near  as  Philip 
and  his  widowed  mother  feared,  for  the 
chastening  hand  which  it  had  pleased 
God  to  lay  upon  them  so  long  was  about 
to  be  removed,  and  brighter  days  were 
in  store. 

Not  many  days  after  Dr.  Ford's  last 
visit,  a  large  packet  of  letters  which  had 
arrived  by  the  last  English  mail  was 


CONCLUSION. 


173 


brought  in  and  laid  before  Mr.  Lynton, 
as  the  custom  of  the  house  was,  when  the 
party  were  all  assembled  at  breakfast. 
Every  one  was  soon  occupied  in  reading 
his  own,  when  a  sudden  exclamation  of 
surprise  from  Mr.  Lynton  attracted  the 
attention  of  all. 

**  Well,  this  is  passing  strange ;  in- 
deed, I  may  sa-y  providential.  My  dear 
madam,  let  me  congratulate  you  most 
warmly,"  said  he,  rising  and  shaking 
hands  heartily  with  Mrs.  Quin.  "I  have 
good  news  for  you,*^  I  am  informed  that 
your  son,  Philip  Walter  Quin,  has  just 
fallen  heir  to  the  property,  real  and  per- 
sonal, of  his  uncle  Capt.  W.  P.  Quin, 
who  died  suddenly  on  the  tenth  of  April 
last.  A  long  and  fruitless  search  has 
been  made  for  him,  and  now  this  letter 
is  sent  to  me  as  the  magistrate  of  this 
district,  making  inquiries  concerning  the 
whereabouts  of  the   said   Philip  Quin, 


174 


LYNTONVILLE. 


who  is  supposed  to  be  living  somewhere 
in  the  neighborhood,  as  his  presence  is 
required  at  once,  if  possible,  in  Eng- 
land. I  think,"  he  added  smiling,  '*  I 
shall  be  able  to  give  the  requisite  infor- 
mation." 

Astonishment  took  the  place  of  every 
other  feeling  in  Mrs.  Quin's  mind  at  these 
unexpected  tidings. 

"But  are  you  sure  this  is  true?"  she 
said,  "  for  one  chief  cause  of  our  leaving 
Ireland,  and  our  consequent  troubles, 
was  an  unhappy  quarrel  between  my 
husband  and  his  brother,  and  any  hopes 
of  help  from  that  quarter  I  had  entirely 
given  up  for  years." 

''Nevertheless  it  is  undoubtedly  true," 
replied  Mr.  Lynton,  "  for  here  are  full 
particulars  from  his  solicitor." 

Mrs.  Quin  took  the  letter;  but  her 
eyes  were  blinded  by  the  fast-falling 
tears,  as  she  thought  that  if  this  good 


CONCLUSION. 


176 


news  had  only  come  in  time,  her  son 
might  have  been  spared  to  her. 

"Oh,"  cried  Mrs.  Lynton,  when  she 
understood  it  all,  **how  thankful  I  am.  It 
was  only  the  other  day  Dr.  Ford  told  me 
that  a  sea-voyage  might  yet  save  ""hilip, 
and  I  believe  it  will."  The  widow  caught 
eagerly  at  her  cheering  words,  and  when 
the  doctor  came  in  later  in  the  day  and 
confirmed  her  most  sanguine  hopes,  her 
joy  and  gratitude  to  the  gracious  Giver 
of  all  good  things  knew  no  bounds. 

"But  3'ou  must  break  it  to  him  very 
cautiously,"  said  he,  "for  any  great  ex- 
citement in  his  weak  state  might  prove 
fatal ;  and  the  greatest  care  will  be  noc- 
essary  in  the  land  journey.  Once  get 
him  to  the  sea,  and  there  is  not  so  much 
to  fear." 

It  was  some  time  before  the  widowed 
mother  could  realize  her  happiness,  for 
she  hardly  dared  to  believe  that  her  be- 


176 


LYNTONVILLE. 


loved  son  might  yet  be  spared  to  her. 
As  she  grew  accustomed  to  the  idea,  and 
felt  that  their  bitter  days  of  poverty 
were  over,  her  joy  seemed  almost  too 
great. 

"How  can  1  ever  thank  you,  my  dear, 
kind  friends,  for  all  you  have  done  for 
me  and  mine?"  she  said.  "Without 
your  generous  sympathy,  our  life  would 
indeed  have  been  sad — strangers  and 
poor  in  a  foroign  land;  but  God  will 
reward  you." 

No  one  rejoiced  more  unfeignedly  in 
the  welcome  tidings  than  Harry,  and  he 
showed  his  glee  in  the  most  characteris- 
tic manner.  It  was  all  they  could  do  to 
prevent  his  rushing  up  to  Philip  at  once, 
and  telling  him  the  whole  story  in  his 
excited  way ;  but  as  this  was  strictly  and 
seriously  forbidden,  he  was  obliged  to 
content  himself  with  fidgeting  in  and  out 
of  his  room,  and  continually  bursting  out 


CONCLUSION.  ~     177 

into  little  bits  of  ecstacy,  rubbing  his 
hands  and  muttering  to  himself,  "  Oh, 
is  n't  it  jolly  ?"  Then,  suddenly  remem- 
bering that  a  weighty  secret  was  entrust- 
ed  to  his  keeping  which  he  was  on  no 
account  to  divulge,  he  would  try  to  look 
grave  and  pull  on  a  long  face,  until  the 
next  happy  thoughts  of  his  friend's  good 
fortune  would  set  him  off  again.  It  must 
be  confessed  that  all  this  was  rather 
trying  to  the  young  invalid,  who  being 
unacquainted  with  the  cause  of  his  odd 
behavior  wondered  what  could  possess  his 
light-hearted  companion.  But  Harry's 
patience  was  not  destined  to  be  put  to  a 
very  severe  test.  Towards  evening,  Mrs. 
Quin  went  up  to  sit  with  Philip  in  the 
twilight,  as  was  her  wont ;  and  for  a  few 
moments  after  her  first  loving  inquiries 
they  were  silent,  his  thin  hand  resting  in 
the  warm,  loving  embrace  of  hers. 

"God  has  been  very  merciful  to  us, 

12 


h 


178 


LYNTONVILLE. 


my  darling,"  she  said  softly  at  length,  as 
he  leaned  his  head  against  her. 

"Yes,"  he  answered;  but  he  spoke 
sadly,  for  he  was  thinking  of  the  parting 
which  seemed  so  near.  Then  he  looked 
up  in  her  face,  as  the  flame  from  the 
open  stove  glanced  upon  it  in  the  dim 
light,  and  he  saw  that,  though  her  eyes 
were  glistening  with  tears,  it  wore  a  joy- 
ful expression.  *'  What  is  it,  mother? 
something  has  happened." 

"I  have  just  received  the  news  of 
your  uncle  Walter^s  death,  Philip." 

"Oh,  mother;  but  that  does  not  make 
you  glad,  does  it?" 

"God  forgive  me,"  thought  she,  "I 
have  been  seliBsh  in  my  joy.  No,  my 
boy,"  she  said  aloud,  "though  I  never 
saw  him ;  but,  Philip,  it  alters  our  cir- 
cumstances very  much." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad,  so  thankful.  Now 
I  shall  die  without  a  care,  if  I  think  you 


CONCLUSION. 


179 


are  provided  for.  God  has  indeed  been 
good  to  us ;"  and  the  tears  rolled  down 
his  face. 

"Yes,  darling;  and  suppose  you  were 
to  get  well,  Philip ;  suppose  it  were  now 
in  our  power  to  use  the  only  means  of 
doing  you  good." 

"Mother,"  said  he,  **you  would  not 
say  so  if  you  had  not  good  hopes :  tell 
me,  Oh  do  tell  me ;  is  it  true  ?" 

'  *  My  son,  in  Grod's  great  mercy  I  believe 
it  is,  ^^  she  replied  solemnly.  ' '  I  would  not, 
you  know  I  would  not,  be  so  cruel  as  to 
raise  false  hopes ;  but  Dr.  Ford  assures 
me  that  a  sea-voyage  may  yet  restore 
you ;  and  now,  thank  God,  we  can  go." 

"Oh,  I  am  thankful,  mother,  dear 
mother.  It  would  have  been  hard  to  part ; 
but  if  I  am  spared,  may  God  give  me 
grace  to  live  more  to  his  glory,  and  to  be 
a  greater  comfort  to  you  than  I  have 
been."   The  room  grew  darker  and  dark- 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

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180 


LYNTONVILLE. 


er,  but  there  was  light  and  joy  in  their 
hearts,  such  as  they  had  not  known  for 
many  long  days;  and  the  mother  and 
son  rejoiced  together  in  their  great  hap- 
piness. 

Little  more  remains  to  be  told.  Mr. 
Lynton  had  been  long  wishing  for  an  op- 
portunity of  sending  Harry  to  finish  his 
education  in  England,  and  though  his 
parents  were  grieved  at  the  thought  of 
parting  with  him,  yet  they  would  no».  ■  ::'e 
so  good  an  opportunity;  so  it  was  at- 
ranged  that  he  should  accompany  Mrs. 
Quin  and  Philip.  Great  care  was  taken 
of  the  young  invalid,  and  they  reached 
Quebec  by  short  and  easy  stages.  The 
journey  did  not  try  him  so  much  even  as 
they  expected,  and  with  the  first  breath 
of  sea-air  came  a  change  for  the  better. 
They  arrived  in  Liverpool  after  a  pros- 
perous voyage,  and  soon  after  proceeded 
to  London,   where    Harry   sorrowfully 


CONCLUSION. 


181 


bade  them  farewell  before  entering  alone 
upon  the  new  and  varied  experiences  of 
an  English  public  school.  He  often  miss- 
ed Philip's  ready  advice  and  help,  and 
right  glad  was  he  when  they  met  again 
once  more.  It  was  in  Mrs.  Quin's  pleas- 
ant country  residence  that  his  happy  holi- 
days were  spent.  Here  was  his  second 
home,  and  he  loved  to  call  it  so. 

Philip  by  this  time  had  regained  even 
more  than  his  former  health,  and  when 
Harry's  holidays  were  over,  he  returned 
with  him,  to  contend  once  more  for  the 
double  honors  of  class  and  play-ground. 
The  discipline  of  their  early  days  was 
not  lost  upon  either  of  them,  and  Philip 
especially  never  regretted  the  lessons  of 
self-dependence  and  self-sacrifice  which 
he  had  been  taught  in  the  stern  school  of 
adversity. 

And  is  there  no  truth  that  our  young 
readers  may  learn  from  the  little  story 


182 


LYNTONVILLE. 


we  have  related?  We  think  there  is. 
The  word  of  God  tells  us  that  "none  of 
us  liveth  to  himself."  Each  word  and 
action  of  even  the  very  youngest  must 
exercise  some  influence  for  evil  or  for 
good  on  those  around  him ;  and  we  have 
seen  how  Philip's  quiet,  consistent  con- 
duct was  the  means,  in  God's  hands,  of 
leading  one  who  seemed  in  every  way 
most  unpromising,  to  seek  for  pardon  and 
peace  through  our  Saviour  Christ,  who 
alone  can  bestow  it. 

The  work  which  God  gives  each  one 
of  us,  young  and  old,  to  do,  lies  close  to 
our  hand ;  and  though  the  path  of  duty 
is  sometimes  rugged  and  steep,  calling 
for  patient  self-denial,  yet  if  we  strive  by 
God's  grace  to  go  straight  forward  in  it, 
he  will  surely  make  use  of  our  silent  ex- 
ample for  his  own  glory  and  the  good  of 
those  about  us. 

Years  after,  when  Philip  revisited  the 


CONCLUSION. 


183 


scenes  of  his  boyish  trials,  and  once  more 
renewed  his  acquaintance  with  his  old 
companion  and  former  foe,  Tom  Hardy, 
now  become  a  good  and  worthy  man,  he 
was  able  to  look  back  upon  his  early  dis- 
cipline with  thankfulness,  and  to  feel  that 
it  had  not  been  in  vain  that  so  many  of 
*^is  early  days  had  been  spent  in  the 
forest  shades  of 

i 

LYNTONVILLE. 


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